Return to the Blue Mountains
by CatChester
Summary: Set after the end of the Hobbit (or 3rd movie). Spoilers for the book and films so to be safe, the summary is at the top of Chapter One. Thorin/OC
1. Chapter 1

SPOILERS for The Hobbit, from this point on. If you haven't already read that book and don't want to know the plot, please STOP READING NOW.

AN: I have not set out to write high fiction here, this story is wish fulfilment and my desire to correct what happened to Thorin. I feel that he was under used until the final chapters and just as he is redeemed, he dies.

Tolkien fans will probably not like this but hopefully Thorin and Richard Armitage fangirls will!

**Synopsis:** After waking up under the Lonely Mountain (AKA Erebor) Thorin is confused as to why he is still alive. He seeks out a bookish dwarf to help him find answers and she tells him of an ancient prophecy that may hold the answers he seeks. Their journey to find the prophecy will be fraught with dangers but just maybe they will manage to find love amid the chaos too.

**Chapter One**

When Rori was summoned to the kings chamber, it is safe to say that she was more than a little apprehensive, fearing that her father had told on her and that she was about to be punished a second time for her supposed transgressions.

Still, she was a dwarf and most certainly not a coward so she drew herself up to her full height, such as it was, and marched into the kings chamber, stopping before Thorin and bowing low in deference, for Thorin was no ordinary king.

"Ai-menu duzhuk, Uzbad," she said, which roughly translated from Khuzdul, the dwarf language, means, "I am at your service, my lord."

Thorin was taken aback at the sight of the small dwarf for she had no beard, which was indeed unusual among dwarves.

"Rise," he told her and as she stood up he saw that she was indeed bearded but it was exceptionally short, hardly more than stubble really, and blonde like her hair so that she seemed at first glance not to have a beard.

Rori stood under his watchful gaze, doing her best not to cower or look weak but she was terrified of what might be about to happen.

Thorin wanted to know what had happened for her to lose her beard but he had more pressing matters at hand, he could ask later. Besides, he did not want to remind her of the shame that had brought about her shave, it would not help them in this discussion.

"I have been told that you are bookish," Thorin said.

The last of Rori's courage failed her and she bowed her head.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Look at me," Thorin commanded and though she really would rather ride an Orc, she did as he said and met his gaze.

"What do you know of the Orcrist?" he demanded.

Rori was rather taken aback at the change in topic and frowned as she thought back to the many mentions that she had read in her books.

"It was made by elves many years ago and was lost following the fall of Gondolin, until you recovered it, of course." She was gaining confidence as she spoke since history was something she enjoyed.

"That is all you know about it?"

"I know a little of the runes carved into the hilt, such as those which name it, but many books disagree on what exactly is carved there so without examining it for myself, I cannot tell you any more."

"But if you had the sword you could translate them?"

Rori's new found courage deserted her again and she hung her head.

"I might be able to translate some from memory, my lord, but unfortunately the tomes I might have used to aid my translation have been lost to me."

"Lost!" Thorin boomed, clearly unhappy with that answer. "How did you lose them?"

"I did not lose them, exactly, but they were taken from me by my father and burned."

"Why?" Thorin sounded genuinely shocked.

"My family is not wealthy, my Lord, and I was offered the chance at a good marriage. Unfortunately I know the man in question to be cold-hearted and cruel and despite my fathers pleadings, I refused. Part of my punishment was to watch as he burned my books."

Thorin had never heard of such a thing.

"Did he also make you shave your beard?"

"Yes."

"When did this happen?" Thorin asked.

"Two days ago."

"And you are certain that the books are lost?"

"Absolutely certain, I saw them burn with my own eyes." Rori couldn't stand the idea of letting the king down so she summoned all her courage once again and looked up. "But I will translate what I can for you, my Lord, even though I have no books. And perhaps I might be able to replace or borrow books which will help me."

Thorin nodded to Bifur, who came up to Rori and bid her to follow him. He kept his eyes averted from her bare face so as not remind her of her disgrace. Unfortunately that only made her more self-conscious, not less. They went down a short corridor off the main chamber and they entered a small room with only two chairs and table in it. Resting on the table was the Orcrist.

"Might I have some paper?" she asked Bifur.

"Yes, of course," he replied, quickly backing out of the room. He found it hard to believe her family would have shamed her so severely simply for refusing a suitor and believed that there must be more to the story. He was glad to leave her behind while he sought out the paper and writing implements.

III

Even by dwarf standards, Cori was a very unattractive, he had small bead eyes set too close together, thin lips and a simpering air about him. As he was brought before the king, he bowed even lower than his daughter, his forehead almost touching the ground.

"How may I be of service, my Lord."

"You are father of Rori, correct?" Thorin asked, not bothering to tell this man to rise.

"I am, sire."

"And you burned her books and made her shave her beard off, is that correct?"

"Yes, sire."

Cori suddenly felt a little frightened. He had over reacted when he had shaved Rori's beard, such an act was so shameful that it was very very rarely used as punishment. Refusing a husband was not even a punishable offence, many female dwarves remained single their whole lives, but Cori was sick and tired of his daughter's headstrong ways.

A union with Mar would have made the family rich; indeed Mar had promised Cori a great deal of gold if he could persuade his daughter into marriage. The thought of so much treasure slipping through his fingers had angered him and he had hoped that after losing her beard she would be much more inclined to marry Mar, who had agreed that even with no beard, he would still marry Rori. Indeed his eyes had taken on a malevolent glint as he considered her being so shamed.

"Why?" asked Thorin, pulling Cori out of his thoughts.

Cori finally looked up from his bowed position and slowly stood up, mainly to give himself time to think of an acceptable answer.

"She shamed her family," he finally said.

"Refusing a suitor is hardly shameful," Thorin scoffed. "Indeed I would call any woman who refused Mar very wise indeed."

"It's not just that," Cori hurried on. "She always has her nose in a book rather than good honest labour."

"I was under the impression she was a smith," Thorin said, growing tired of this man's lies.

"S-s-she is," he stammered. "Though she only forges horseshoes."

"Horses will always need shoes," Thorin noted. "I will grant you that reading is an uncommon pastime among our kind but she earns her living honestly, is considered strong and robust despite her short stature and how she spends her free time should be none of your business."

"She is my daughter and-"

"Who is of age!" Thorin yelled. "She no longer lives with you and is free to make her own choices."

"Yes, sire," Cori said, finally realising that he could not win this argument.

"Then why did you do it?"

"I was offered a lot of gold if she would marry Mar and..."

"Greed," Thorin said under his breath. He realised that he too had been obsessed with possessions at one time and understood the desire, but he couldn't ever imagine selling a loved one for treasure. "I understand that you also burned her books."

"Yes." Although it wasn't a question, Cori felt compelled to answer.

"All of them?" Thorin asked.

"Yes, Sire."

This irritated Thorin beyond words. He already had people scouring the mountain and the town of Dale below them looking for replacement books but the fact that this man had made him resort to such measures needlessly was galling.

"I will ask your daughter if she wants compensation for her unnecessary humiliation but in the mean time, I believe I shall make her punishment yours."

"I don't understand," Cori said. Did Thorin mean that Rori would decide his punishment?

"I mean we are going to take your beard!" Thorin answered and with a quick hand gesture, Cori was dragged from the chamber, pleading with anyone who could hear, begging them not to take his beard.

Thorin listened to his cries and he did feel pity for the man, for no respectable dwarf deserved that punishment. Then again, Rori hadn't deserved it either and it seemed only fair that her father be subject to the same fate.

III

Rori had been well looked after all day with people regularly bringing her food and water but none of them met her gaze. They would look at her face when they thought she wouldn't notice, curiosity is normal after all, but as soon as she glanced up the other dwarves always looked away.

She was expecting it to be more food when the door opened again but no tray was placed before her so she turned and looked at the visitor. None other than Thorin stood there so she she quickly stood up and bowed.

"My Lord."

"Have you made any progress?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye.

"Some. I believe I have translated one quarter of the writing but the others are not known to me."

"I have men out now, looking for books that you might use."

"Thank you, sir."

"What does the quarter you translated mean?" he asked, approaching the desk.

Rori turned back to her work and Thorin sat in the spare chair opposite her.

"The markings are all beautifully preserved," she began then held up a sheet of paper and pointed to a symbol. "This one, right at the end of the hilt is the name of the sword, orcrist. This one here says 'it was forged by' but I am unable to translatable next rune, which I assume is the name of the elf who forged it. These say how it was forged, the methods used but this symbol here, it's meaning can change depending on the next rune, which I don't know."

"So you know nothing about it then?" he sounded disappointed.

"Perhaps if you would tell me what specificity you are looking for, I might have better luck."

Thorin considered her for a long moment.

"If I do tell you anything, you will need to give me your bond that you will not speak of it to anyone else."

"Of course," she said as though it went without saying. "You have my word."

Thorin still didn't answer immediately but when he did his voice was hesitant, a quality she would never have attributed to the king.

"I should be dead," he told her. "In fact I was dead. When I woke up the sword was glowing red, along with the crystal. It did something to me, brought me back to life."

Rori frowned. Everyone knew the story of the kings heroic rise from the dead, further proof (if it was necessary) of his majesty but she had never considered things from his point of view. Of course it would be upsetting because he didn't understand it.

"Are you sure that you were dead and not just unconscious? Perhaps in a coma?" she asked as kindly as she could. She didn't want to sound like she was questioning him, even though she was in fact questioning him.

"I am," he sounded certain. "I remember... somewhere else. Somewhere majestic. Since I woke up I can only remember glimpses but they are magnificent. I suppose that kind of knowledge is forbidden to the living."

Rori wondered if perhaps it had been a dream but she daren't question him any further.

"I have found no symbols relating to either life or death so far," she said. "But..."

"But?" he prompted when she had been silent for a while.

"I am trying to remember," she said. "My grandfather was bookish, like me, and I remember he lent be a book of prophecies once. I think one of them spoke of a king who would live a second life but I cannot remember many of the details."

"Does your grandfather still have this book?" Thorin asked.

"I don't know. My father did not like my mothers family and we left them when I was still young and joined the dwarves living in the Iron Hills."

"Where is your grandfather now?"

"I cannot say for certain but he used to live in the Blue Mountains."

"That is quite a journey," Thorin said thoughtfully.

"It may not even relate to dwarves, my Lord," Rori told him. "Your story reminded me of the prophecy but without knowing more details it would be foolish to undertake such a journey."

Thorin raised his chin, silently asking if she was calling him foolish.

"Please, my Lord, give me some time to examine and translate the runes on your sword and I will do my best to remember more details of the prophecy. With more information, I will undertake a visit to my grandfather if you believe it is warranted but..."

"To take such a decision now would be hasty," Thorin finished for her as she had hoped.

Just then there came a knock at the door and Dori entered followed by five other dwarves, each carrying an armful of books.

"We have found as many as we can," Dori informed Thorin. "The men from Dale have yet to return."

Rori kept her head down as they piled the books up against the wall because she was sick of everyone looking away from her and her naked face. The dwarves left, though Dori hesitated until Thorin gestured for him to leave also. Thorin then faced Rori.

"Why do you bow your head when they enter?" he asked. "You have done nothing wrong."

"No, my Lord, but it is assumed that I have to warrant such a punishment and it is just easier not to look at their faces."

"You look at me," he said.

Rori looked up at him again and smiled slightly.

"Because I do not see judgement on your face, and you do not look away because I have caught you staring."

In truth he did stare sometimes but as king that was his right and he was not ashamed of it. Indeed he found her visage fascinating. Sometimes when she was nervous she bit her bottom lip, an action that would most likely not be visible were she still bearded.

Thorin stood up, bringing their conversation to an abrupt halt.

"You will be given rooms within my quarters, fed, watered and amply remunerated for your time and trouble. You will remain here until we have an answer or until you hit a dead end. Goodnight, Rori."

He turned to leave but Rori's voice halted him once more.

"My Lord?"

"What?" he asked rather tersely.

"I- I have no clean clothes or belongings and someone... I mean, I would appreciate it if someone could tell my employer that I won't be able to work for a while."

Thorin realised that he should have thought of that and nodded. "It will be taken care of."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"And call me Thorin. If we are to live in proximity, such formality is unnecessary."

"Thank you, my-" she smiled. "I mean, Thorin."

Thorin scowled in reply and left.

Rori looked after him for a moment wondering what his expression had meant, then shook off her confusion and set about sorting the books.

They had seemingly brought all the books they could find, regardless of the type. There were children's stories, cook books and even a few personal diaries. There was very little that was useful to her task since dwarves are not known for their interest in history or the books of other races. There were a handful that might be useful though.

A little later Bifur and at least two dozen other dwarves entered with the books borrowed from the town of Dale. Among these she still found many books that clearly weren't related to her task but she also found a few more that looked like they might be very helpful. Among that haul were the books of men, elves, hobbits and even a few volumes on evil creatures, such as the Orcs and the necromancer.

Rori found such books hard to come across among her own people and hoped that, although they were not useful to her task, she might still have a chance to read them before they were returned to their owners.

Finally she left the room and found Bifur waiting outside for her. He showed her to her room, which was just next door to the room she had been using, then he left, telling her to call if she should need anything.

She was surprised to see that the entire contents of her home seemed to have been crammed into this small room and she smiled. Obviously not knowing what to bring, they had opted to bring everything, save for furniture. It took some hunting but she finally found what she needed and put those items to one side. Dinner was brought to her a little later on and she felt tired before she even began eating. By the time she finished it was all she could do to crawl into bed and sleep.

The next day the books she didn't need were removed and returned to their owners and she got to work. She divided her time between translating the writing on the sword and searching for information on the arkenstone. She repeated this pattern every day for the next two weeks.

She expected Thorin to come and see her, as he had that first day but he didn't return. Rori decided not to request his presence until she had something to tell him, which after thirteen days she finally did.

She did little other than work and sleep during that time, not so much because she was working for the king because she was sure that he wouldn't begrudge her time off, rather she was hooked on solving the puzzle and unwilling to leave her task for too long until she had an answer.

Sometimes the singing in the great hall would reach her and she would pause in her work to listen for a while but she soon returned to her task. At the beginning of the second week she heard a lone voice singing and playing what sounded like a harp. The tune was mournful and solemn but the singers voice captivated her and she decided to venture out of her rooms so as to hear better.

As she approached the great hall she slowed her pace and tried to be stealthy. She assumed it was someone performing for Thorin and didn't want to distract the singer and and risk upsetting her king.

What she saw when she peered around the corner however, was Thorin. He sat all alone in the great hall, his gold harp between his legs as he played. She could see his face in profile as he sang and she felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched him, for he looked magnificent. Without an audience to perform for, he was singing for pleasure and singing from the heart. Despite his strength and undoubted prowess, there was a vulnerability shining from him that turned him from a great leader and a mighty king, into a man. A man she felt drawn to like she had no other.

The tune drew to a close and Rori ducked back into the corridor before she could be seen and crept back to her room. She got back to work but was distracted for the rest of the day by what she had seen. She told herself she was being silly for no man who had made it to nearly 200 without taking a wife was likely to take one now and even if he were inclined to, Rori was from a simple family who had neither riches nor particularly great skill. If Thorin were to choose a wife, he would surely be drawn more to the daughters of one of the wealthy or warrior families.

Not to mention that Rori had no beard. It was slowly growing back but she felt very self conscious without it and even less attractive than she had before. Her mother called her pretty, but then all mothers thought that about their children.

Her father on the other hand, told her that she was a runt who looked like the hind end of an Orc and that she would never find a husband. Even though her blonde hair, which was unusual colouring for a dwarf, often drew stares, she had heard his words so any times that she believed them. People looked at her because she was different, not because she was pretty.

Added to that was the shameful fact that she enjoyed books above all else. Playing her flute was a close second and caring for animals came third but nothing warmed her heart more than immersing herself in a good book.

Her trade, blacksmith, was nothing special, at least not among dwarves, many of whom were capable of much more intricate work but shoe smithing paid the bills and allowed her to work with horses and ponies, which was her favourite aspect of the job.

She became harder on her self over the next few days, forcing her attention back to her work whenever her mind began to wonder but being denied that freedom, her mind filled her head with images of Thorin while she slept instead.

She awoke one morning from a dream that seemed familiar and so although she had dreamed about Thorin again, she allowed herself a few moments today to remember the dream.

She had seen Thorin in battle, charging forth from the mountain side, then she had seen him lying in state beneath the mountain, cold and alone. She saw the stone and the sword begin to glow, slowly growing so bright that the whole chamber was bathed in blood red light. Then she saw his chest begin to rise and fall as the light slowly faded away and Thorin opened his eyes.

Next the scene changed again and now she was in an unfamiliar cave with him. There was a great shadow, stealing the light even from the cave entrance. Thorin was doing his best to hold the shadow at bay with the orcrist, seemingly able to repel it's magic with the glowing blade. She also noticed that hilt of the sword was different, for where it met the blade, the arkenstone had been mounted and shone a bright white, the same as the sword's blade.

She had woken then, sweating and wondering where that last scene had come from; her over active imagination or something more? It felt familiar, though it was not a memory she associated either with herself or her king. When trying to remember proved fruitless she closed her eyes and tried to remember the dream, to relive it.

Then it came to her. The king who was given second life! The prophecy she remembered foretold of that king fighting off a savage attack on his people by a Maia. Sauron was the most well known Maia in Middle Earth but she was fairly certain that the prophecy called the Maia 'unnamed'.

Nevertheless she was now certain that the prophecy was about Thorin. She wished she could remember it all but alas she still did not have the detail she needed. She couldn't even remember the name of the book she had read it in, only that it was bound in black leather and looked to be older than her grandfather.

Rori dressed quickly and when Gloin brought her breakfast, she asked him to fetch Thorin for her.

III

Thorin was breakfasting with Dain when Gloin found him.

One thing about dwarves is that they are usually loyal to a fault and so despite Thorin's return to life (and as a consequence, taking Dain's newly acquired throne from him) Dain had been happy to stand aside. Probably helped by the fact that Thorin had no children and so Dain was still next in line for the throne.

Nevertheless, the lack of animosity between them meant that Thorin trusted Dain with both his life and his kingdom. It is fair to say that Thorin had been unsettled by his return to the living and Dain had helped him greatly by acting as lieutenant and helping to get the mountain back into a habitable condition, much as he had been doing before Thorin woke up.

Thorin still did his duty as king but in the months since his return, he had been happy for Dain to take more responsibility than he might once have. In the two weeks that Thorin had been away (first dead, then digging himself out of the mountain when he awoke) Dain had proved himself a popular and fair leader and he had a charisma and a way with people that Thorin mostly lacked (except for on the battle field but that is another story).

Dain had been allowed to carve his own suite of rooms off the main hall and he and Thorin spent much time together.

Which is why, when Thorin heard Rori's tale, he had no trouble at all in leaving his kingdom in Dain's hands while he travelled to his old kingdom in the Blue Mountains, in search of Rori's grandfather.

Though I am making the decision sound rather hasty when in reality it took two days for Thorin to decide to undertake the journey.

Once Rori had told him the additional details that she had remembered, Thorin had sent men around the mountain, knocking on every door and asking if anyone knew Ris Taleteller, Rori's grandfather. Many dwarves from the Blue Mountains had returned to their home in the Lonely Mountain, once the dragon who had displaced them had been killed, but it soon became clear that Ris was not one of them.

Many spoke fondly of a very elderly dwarf who was now too old to undertake the journey and wanted to die in his own home rather that on an arduous journey. Most of his children had also remained there with him. They painted a picture of a warm and welcoming man who liked nothing more than sharing one of his stories with his friends, hence his name. Unlike Rori, while his penchant for books was considered unusual, no one had ever thought less of him because of it.

Thorin first thought of going alone to the Blue Mountains, but Rori told him that she did not know the name of the book and would have to search her grandfathers entire collection for it, and Thorin realised that he would need her assistance.

Rori assured him that she could go alone but Thorin wouldn't hear of it. You might not think it of a warrior race, but dwarves are actually very chivalrous and protective of female dwarves. It was bad enough a female dwarf being see by non-dwarves but a beardless one travelling alone? Unthinkable!

Knowing that the trek would likely take a long time, Thorin considered taking others with them but Rori pointed out that the fewer of them there were, the faster they could travel.

Thorin didn't much like the idea of spending weeks in Rori's company but this task was of vital importance and he could not charge it to anyone but himself.

Knowing that she would likely be gone for a while, Rori visited her friends and her parents to say goodbye before they left. She was shocked to see her father with even less beard that she had but all she received in answer to her question of "What happened?" was a punch. Hurt (more mentally than physically) she left the house, unable to properly say goodbye to either parent. Her mother, Rei, was a good woman but unlike most dwarves, she had always been inclined to timidity.

Rori thought that she heard her mother try to follow her as she left, but then she heard her father begin yelling and knew that it was pointless to wait. Rei always gave in to what her father wanted.

When she got back to the castle she went straight to her room and finished what little packing she had left. She was interrupted a few minutes later as Thorin knocked on her open door to get her attention.

"I'm nearly ready," she assured him.

Instead of replying he simply looked at her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, for his silence and scrutiny were beginning to unnerve her. She worried that he was about to tell her that she couldn't accompany him, but it had been over seventy years since she had seen her grandfather and she would not be left behind as this was likely to be her only chance. Of course she didn't much like the idea of arguing with her king but she would do what ever was necessary, including disobeying him, for a chance to see her grandfather again.

"Dwarf women do not often travel," he said slowly, almost reluctantly.

"I know but-"

Thorin held his hand up to silence her.

"Normally when it is unavoidable, they would dress as men and become indistinguishable to the untrained eye. Without a full beard however, I fear there is no way that anyone with eyes could mistake you for a male."

Rori wanted to argue but she could tell that Thorin wasn't finished yet, but he looked hesitant. Was he sorry to be telling her that she must remain behind? He didn't seem like the type to care how she felt, as long as she obeyed his orders.

"You are short for a dwarf and..." he paused.

Rori thought that he was trying to say that she was weak. She might be short but she was not weak!

"It has been suggested that perhaps you might pass for a hobbit." He looked away for a moment then seemed to gather himself together again and looked her in the eye. "I realise of course, that would only be possible if you continued to shave your beard."

Hope flared in her heart again. He wasn't telling her that she couldn't come, only that she would have to dress like a hobbit. She didn't much relish the idea of shaving every day, she was looking forward to her beard being long enough to plat again, but she would do what ever was necessary to accompany him to the Blue Mountains and if shaving was the only way, she would do it.

"I understand," she said. "I will be happy to remove the beard, such as it is, I only ask that we wait until we have left Erebor before I shave. I do not much relish the looks of disdain that I will receive if I remove it now."

"Of course," Thorin smiled and even looked a little relieved. It was odd to see him smile since she wasn't used to it but it made him look very handsome. "You are certain that you are willing to do this?"

"I am. My grandfather is the only other person I have met who is like me in his love of books and language. I would ride there naked if it meant that I could see him again."

Was she imagining it, or did Thorin blush beneath his beard at her statement.

"Let us hope that doesn't become necessary," he said, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I have heard of a new tribe of goblins that have a penchant for stealing the clothes of travellers."

Rori laughed with him, pleased that he felt familiar enough in her presence to make jokes.

"We have found some hobbit-like apparel in Dale for you to wear," he continued when the laughter died. "Though you don't need to change before we leave."

"Thank you."

"When you have finished, bring your bags to the entrance, our horses are waiting there for us."

She nodded her understanding and Thorin left. Rori placed the final few items in her bags then followed him. As she passed the room that she had been using to study the orcrist she spotted the books which lined the far wall and sighed. She would love to take a few volumes with her but firstly, it was impractical to ask the horses to carry too much weight when speed was of the essence and secondly, they weren't her books to take. This would be the first time in her life that she wouldn't be able to read for any length of time and she was very sorry for that fact.

Still, she reminded herself of what awaited her at the other end of her journey, seeing her grandfather, and walked away from the temptation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

In the entrance to the mountain Rori found Thorin and 4 ponies waiting for her. Two ponies were saddled and ready to be ridden and the other two had been kitted out with their belongings. Her bags were quickly secured to a pony and she and Thorin rode out of the mountain, each leading a pack pony.

To her surprise, the path leading down and away from the Lonely Mountain was lined with dwarves, waving and wishing them (well mainly Thorin) well in their quest. Rori hung her head so that her lack of beard would be harder to spot, though she still imagined everyone staring at her.

She was surprised when someone stepped forward from the crowd and placed a hand upon her pony's bridle, halting her progress. She looked up, afraid of what she might see.

"I'm sorry for your father, my darling." Her mother, Rei said. "Good luck and may fortune favour you."

Rori was too shocked to speak and her mother, as discretely as she could, handed her a bag. Rori reached down and kissed her mothers cheek.

"Be safe," Rei told her daughter.

"I will, and..." she didn't know how to finish that. She wanted her mother to stand up to father but now wasn't the time for that conversation. "Be well," she settled for, hoping that her mother would infer her true meaning, for this was not the first time she had voiced such thoughts to her mother.

Rei smiled and stepped away, freeing the pony up to continue.

Rori swung the bag over her head and under one arm then broke into a trot to catch Thorin up. He had paused at the end of the crowds to wait for her and as soon as she had caught up, they began their journey.

"I'm sorry," Rori apologised. "I-"

"You need not worry," he cut her off. "We will be gone for quite a few weeks at best, a few minutes at the beginning will cost us nothing."

"Thank you."

They rode in silence for a while until Rori could keep her thoughts to herself no longer.

"I went to see my father this morning."

"Oh?"

"Yes... Was it you who removed his beard?"

"It was my order, yes."

Rori didn't know how she felt about that, which Thorin guessed from her silence.

"Removing a beard is the worst shame a dwarf can endure; if he will mete out such a punishment for so little an offence, I thought he should know how it feels."

"You logic makes sense," she said. "Though I hate to see him like that because of me."

"It was not because of you," Thorin assured her. "He chose to do that to you, so he has no one but himself to blame for the consequences of that act."

When she didn't reply, Thorin broached a subject he had been meaning to discuss for some time now but had been avoiding.

"You are also entitled to financial compensation for the needless shame that you have endured."

"No," Rori answered immediately. "I don't... no."

"Are you worried that will leave your mother in financial hardship?"

"I suppose it would but the truth is, I want nothing from my father. When I left his house it was the happiest day of my life and I have been proud of my independence ever since. To take his money would cancel that out."

She was independent and Thorin couldn't fault her desire to make her own way in life. Still, something was troubling him about the punishment.

"Did your father shave your beard?" he asked.

"No, I did that."

"Why?"

Rori looked over at him then looked away.

"I can protect myself but I cannot protect her unless she leaves him. He told me what he would do if I did not remove my beard and I believed him."

"He threatened your mother?"

Rori didn't answer, which was all the answer he needed. When he got back, Cori was going to be seriously taken to task. Or perhaps there was a scouting mission that he could be sent on, something that could take years to complete? There would be time enough to work out the details when he returned, but never again would he let Rori be held to ransom for fear of her mother being harmed.

They continued to ride in silence for another few hours until the sun began to set.

"We should make camp soon," Thorin said, "while we can still see clearly."

Rori nodded her head and they found a small clearing not far from a stream. As the night was fine they opted not to erect their tents so that they could make an early start tomorrow. Thorin offered to light a fire while Rori collected her razor, a mirror and her hobbit clothes.

"Are you sure?" Thorin asked as she passed him on her way out of the camp, though he didn't turn to look at her.

"I am sure," she said. "I gave you my word, after all."

Thorin nodded and she continued on her way. Truth be told, dressing as a hobbit had been his idea. To his great surprise, he found that he very much liked her face and had been dreading her beard growing back, since it would hide half of her beauty from his view, so although he felt bad for her having to continue shaving, he found that he didn't want to try too hard to stop her.

He set about unsaddling the horses, getting their feed and water out, then building a fire. By the time Rori returned he was sitting beside it, foraging in one of the bags for food. He looked up as he heard her approach and couldn't help the smile that appeared on his lips.

She looked very odd indeed in hobbit clothes. She was short for a dwarf but tall for a hobbit and her trousers were an inch or two too short. As she drew nearer, he noticed that her lower face was smeared with blood and his smile faded. He reached out to touch one of her cuts as she sat down but she reared away.

"Cut myself," she said. "Still, the last time I did it, it looked like a massacre had occured, so at least I'm getting better."

Thorin patted his pockets, wondering how much he would give for one of Bilbo's pocket handkerchief's right now. He got up and foraged in some of the bags until he found something that could be used as a rag (actually it was the sleeve of one of his shirts) then he returned to the fire with a water flask, wet the rag and turned to her.

"They must be cleaned," he said, his tone broking no argument. "If infection should set in you will be no use to me."

Rori nodded but closed her eyes as he began to clean her chin. It felt strange to feel something touch her there, for dwarves are born bearded. She had washed her own face since shaving, obviously, but to feel the touch of another was humiliating; a reminder of how shameful she looked.

With her eyes closed, Thorin took the chance to really look at her as he cleaned her face. She had high cheekbones, a square jaw and a tiny but adorable dimple on her chin. Once he had washed away all the blood, he found that he couldn't resist knowing what she felt like and lightly ran the back of his index finger across her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, rather like a baby dwarf's skin that is unravaged by weather and time.

"I'm sorry," he said, remembering himself as she opened her eyes in surprise. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss her naked lips, for it would surely be unlike any other kiss he had ever known.

Rori didn't know what had just happened.

"No, you are... curious. I suppose that is to be expected, and certainly much better than other reactions I've had."

"Still, it was wrong of me. I beg your pardon."

"In which case, you have it."

Thorin put the rag away and began looking through the bag of food again.

"What was in the bag your mother gave you?" he asked, remembering it from earlier and desperate to find an easier topic of conversation.

"I haven't looked yet. Probably just food for our journey."

She got up and collected the bag from where it rested with the others, then she sat back down by the fire and opened the flap.

"Oh my word!" she said softly, pulling a book from the bag. "She saved some of them."

"What are they?" Thorin asked.

Thrilled that she still had some books, she handed the one she was holding to Thorin as she dug the next one out, quite forgetting that he probably wasn't interested in books.

"That is a history of the second age. It's not big enough to go into great detail but it covers all the major events. And this," she brandished the next book, "is a biography of a man called Thomas Boatman from Laketown who was an explorer about two hundred years ago. I always find it fascinating how dwarves and other races have so little in common in so many ways but also sometimes, so very much in common in other ways."

Thorin took the book as she she handed it to him.

"This is a collection of legends," she said, handing him a third book. "Some are just stories or morality tales but some are based on truth. And this was my favourite," she said, smiling as she brought the last book out. "An illustrated guide to the creatures of Middle Earth. It has the races, like dwarves, hobbits, men etcetera, but it also has a lot of animal life."

Thorin opened the book as she handed it to him and began to browse through the drawings.

Remembering who she was talking to and that he probably wasn't interested in books very much, she almost snatched the book back.

"I must be boring you," she said, hastily stuffing the books back into the bag. Then she realised how rude her actions must have been, snatching anything was never polite, but she didn't know how to apologise so she settled for biting her lip instead.

"You are very fond of books," he observed.

"I thought we had established that," she said, realising too late that once again she had sounded rude. "I mean, yes, I am."

Thorin smiled as he saw her cheeks turn red.

"Tell me, what is the appeal that they have for you?"

"I don't know really," she said. She had never been asked such a question before. "I suppose I enjoy learning about people and places that I might never experience myself."

"You could experience them," he said reasonably.

"Some places, yes, but there are too many places and cultures to learn about in one lifetime. Besides, how else am I to experience events like the Battle of Beleriand without having been there?"

Thorin conceded her point with a nod.

"So tell me a story from one of your books," he said.

"I'm sure there is nothing in these books which you don't already know," she said, though she was certain that in reality, he probably knew far less than her, even if he had experienced more. He would probably know the basics of important events in history, but probably not much of the history of the Northmen for example, who's descendants now inhabited the town of Dale.

"Just pick anything," he said. "Some history or a description of the animals in far off lands, or even one of those legends you spoke about."

Rori really didn't want to for fear of ridicule but she did as he asked. She chose her favourite legend (which wasn't in the book she'd been given by her mother but she knew it by heart) and began to tell him the story of a man who had cried warg once too often and so was not listened to when real danger approached.

As she relaxed she began to get into her role of story teller and started doing different voices for the characters and embellishing the tale with descriptions of the land and it's inhabitants. She continued with a second tale as they ate and when she was finished they decided to get some sleep.

"Thank you, that was most entertaining," Thorin told her. "I feel this journey will fly by with your stories to keep us company."

Rori blushed under the praise because she wasn't used to; she generally received ridicule from her father had so she had long ago stopped trying to tell stories to anyone. Tonight though, she went to sleep with a smile on her lips.

III

The next day Rori shaved as soon as she awoke since she already had stubble growing, which would surely give away her non-hobbit status. While at the stream she refilled their water flasks, then headed back to the camp. She had also changed back into her dwarf trousers since the hobbit ones were too short. She would see if she could let the hem down this evening when they camped but for now, drawf trousers would suffice. Thorin nodded as she approached and she could see that he had already put the fire out and saddled the ponies while she was gone. The sun was still barely rising as they got under way again so they should be able to cover a fair amount of ground today.

Thorin asked for another story as they rode, so Rori told him the story if the elves creation.

They didn't stop for lunch but ate on horse back as they travelled. They set up camp again as the sun began to set and after she had shaved a second time that day, Thorin asked Rori for more stories. They repeated this pattern over the next few days. Her tales kept him entertained throughout the journey and he found himself glad that he had decided against bringing anyone else with them.

He noticed the change in her as her confidence began to grow and he found it very appealing.

Finally they reached the edge of Mirkwook forest. This time they didn't have to go through the wood but around it. Now that the dwarves were at peace with the elves of the forest, he could surely receive permission to travel through, but there were a lot of other creatures that dwelt in the forest and Thorin didn't particularly relish encountering them again.

Skirting the forest would not take them far off their path and almost before they knew it, they were at the Misty Mountains.

Thanks to most of the goblins being killed at the battle of five armies, the mountains were much safer to travel now, though care still needed to be taken, since some goblins and many other creatures still lived there.

They were taking a different path to the one Thorin had taken from the Shire and there was less opportunity to talk, since they mostly had to ride single file with a pack horse between them. Overnight they still talked as they sat but there was little in the way of wood in the mountains, so they often couldn't have a fire.

Their fresh food was gone now and they were beginning to tire of eating biscuits and other preserved foods but Rori switched to telling uplifting stories, stories of good triumphing over evil and of battles, both historical and recent, to keep their spirits up.

It was on the third night in the mountains when the mischief started and it began with one of Rori's books going missing overnight.

She didn't accuse Thorin of taking it, not only because he was her king but also because... well what use would he have for a book? He was very much a traditional dwarf, preferring action to stillness. Still, he was the only other person around and she suspected him. The atmosphere between them was tense for the rest of the day.

The next night the bridle for Thorin's pony went missing while they slept. Thorin began to bluster and shout while Rori tried in vain to work the tangles out of her hair, which had seemingly appeared from nowhere over night.

When he had calmed down, he realised that Rori had no reason to take the bridle and that something else was going on. Still, he acted as though he did blame her and they rode in silence all day (thankfully Thorin's pony was very well trained and able to be ridden in just a head collar.

When they camped that night, they ate in silence and Rori once again took out her comb and attempted to untangle her hair. Thorin noticed, for usually she was very well groomed and he couldn't figure out what had made her golden mane so tangled.

That evening he did his best to remain awake, though his eyes were closed. He listened closely for any unusual sounds and tried to stay as still as possible. After midnight he heard something that sounded like insect chatter, high pitched and fast. He risked opening one eye a crack and saw a small winged creature hovering over the supplies that rested beside him. The ponies were gently whinnying, unsure if they were in danger or not.

The creature was searching through their belongings and smiled as it pulled out a water flask. Thorin realised that without those flasks, he and Rori would be doomed, since water sources were not regular in the mountains. In fact they hadn't come across any water at all during their the first two days in the mountain.

Quick as a flash he reached out and grabbed the creature, which wriggled and struggled in his grasp.

"Rori!" he called, waking her.

"What?" she sat up, looking around for danger. When she found none her gaze returned to Thorin and she was surprised to see him holding what looked like a tiny person with wings.

The creature continued to struggle for a few moments then finally seemed to give up. A second later though, it used all the strength it had to lunge at Thorin, it's previously manish features taking on a positively demonic air, as it's jaws snapped at it's captor. Thorin had been able to keep it away from him but he had been so spooked by the change that he had almost released it.

"What is it?" he asked Rori.

Rori came closer to look. The creature was still snapping it's viciously pointed teeth at Thorin but making no progress.

"It looks like a faerie," she said.

"There's no such thing as faeries," Thorin told her.

"Maybe not but there are enough references to them in books to make me believe that they might exist." She looked around the camp then went to one of their bags. "One way to tell," she said, brandishing an iron hoof pick.

As she brought the object closer to the creature, it leaned as far away from her as it could manage in Thorin's tight grip.

"Faerie's hate iron," Rori explained. She lowered the hoof pick a little. "I know you can speak our language," she told the faerie. "So talk or I'll use this to eviscerate you!"

The faerie looked hateful and crossed it's arms while looking away from her.

"Did you steal our things?" she asked it. It didn't reply. "Tell me or I'll kill you," she threatened, bringing the hoof pick to within inches of it's face.

Its stubbornness failed it then and it looked truly terrified.

"Ok, fine!" it yelled when the pick was almost touching it. Rori moved the pick away but only a fraction this time.

"Where is our stuff?" she asked it.

The faerie didn't answer so Rori lightly pressed the tip of the iron hoof pick onto it's cheek, causing it to sizzle and burn.

"Where?" she asked as she removed the pick once more.

"You might as well kill me," the faerie said sadly. "I am already as good as dead when my kin discover that I have been caught."

"Okay." Rori drew the pick high above her head as though to swing it back down. Thorin looked surprised by her action but held fast to the creature. The fairly didn't give her a chance to bring the pick back down.

"Fine, all right, they're in a camp about four miles south."

"Four miles?" Rori echoed.

"That's nothing when you can fly," it taunted them.

"Maybe not, but this ends now," Thorin said, shaking the faerie.

"I'll bring your items back," the faerie assured them. "Just please don't kill me!"

"Why did you take it?" Thoirn asked.

"Because I wanted to."

"They're mischief makers," Rori explained. "They enjoy stealing things and watching what happens. Was it you who tied my hair into fairy knots as well?" she asked, still unable to get rid of all the tangles.

The fairy nodded. "I didn't mean any harm." It's voice was small now, trying to play on their sympathies, but both Rori and Thorin could vividly remember it's demonic features from a few moments ago.

Rori became thoughtful for a moment and Thorin wanted to know what she was thinking.

"What's your name?" Rori finally asked the faerie, who shook it's head and looked away. "What's your name?" she repeated.

"I won't say," the fairy said. "So you may as well stop asking!"

"I know you have to tell the truth if I ask three times." Rori smiled then once again asked, "What's your name?"

The fairy looked very odd then as it tried to stop itself from uttering its name. It squeezed it's lips together, clamped its hands over its month but finally the name burst forth.

"Morgana!"

"Morgana," Rori smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Morgana."

The little faerie looked frightened.

"You know that if I say your name a third time, you will become my servant, don't you?" Rori asked. "You'll be in my service for the rest of my life."

The fairy nodded sadly, she was correct.

"I won't say your name a third time if you promise to return our things to us, and not to bother us again for the rest of our journey, understood?"

The faerie looked up, hope shining in it's eyes.

"Do you mean that? You would let me remain free?"

"I would, I give you my word that if you keep your end of the bargain, you will remain a free faerie."

"Then you have my word also," the Faerie said.

"Release her," Rori said to Thorin.

"Can we trust her?" Thorin asked.

"If she does not return by sunrise with our items, I will say her name a third time and she will be forced to do our bidding; so yes, we can trust her."

Thorin released the faerie who hovered above them for a moment, looking from Rori to Thorin before flying off to the south.

"How did you know that?" Thorin asked. "About her name?"

"There is a lot of contradicting stories surrounding fairies but I have read that in more than one place, so I thought it was worth trying."

"I thought they were a myth, stories told by children too young to know any better."

"I did too, until we just met one. I suppose their secrecy is understandable, if dwarves were as easy to control and enslave, wouldn't you try and keep your existence and the methods of control secret?"

"I suppose," he agreed. "Will they leave us alone now?"

"I hope so. I don't think she'll cross us because if she does, I can enslave her to me."

"You still could," he said. "It might be helpful to have a faerie in your service."

"I gave her my word," Rori looked shocked by the suggestion. "Besides, I have read enough folklore to know that it is never a good idea. They may be forced to do as we tell them but they will use all their will to find ways to sabotage us."

"How so?"

"Well, if you told them to pass on an urgent message for example, it's a simple enough order but if you didn't tell them exactly when it had to be relayed, they would delay the journey, taking as long as possible so that by the time they arrive to give the message, there is no point in it any longer. If it was a warning you were sending, then the other party might even be dead by the time the faerie arrived. If you ordered them to make haste with the message, indeed they would be forced to but could choose to take a longer route, thereby still making themselves late. There are a thousand and one ways and loopholes that they can find to mess things up, with out directly contradicting an order."

Thorin grunted his agreement and sighed.

"We must wait for the fairies return in case it has any more tricks planned, so we will get little sleep tonight," he said. "We can sleep for a few hours once the faerie arrives back but it will not be enough."

Sadly, Rori agreed with him. She did so hate being tired but they could hardly lie around camp, sleeping during the daylight. No, it was better to move on during the day and try to catch up on their sleep the next night,

To pass the time she took her comb out and began trying to pick through her tangled mane once more.

"Let me," Thorin said, holding his hand out for the comb.

"Oh no, my Lord, I couldn't possibly-"

"I said give it here!" He was already feeling his patience wearing thin thanks to lack of sleep, but he hadn't intended to snap at her.

Chastened, Rori handed him the comb and sat with her back to him.

Slowly and gently, Thorin began to tease the comb through her tangles, easing them out. When he was a child his mother would spend hours grooming him and he had always enjoyed it, even if it did mean sitting still for a time. Eager to be grown up, he would then insist that he do the same to her and he had loved brushing her silken locks.

Of course, their came an age when it was no longer the done thing for a boy to sit patiently while his mother groomed him, but when he was under the weather he still allowed it, and he would do the same for his sister as she grew up, reasoning that as the older child, it was his job to make sure his sister was well groomed.

It had been many decades since he had brushed someone's hair now, and even longer since anyone had brushed his. He found the simple action soothing and by the time he had finally worked the last of Rori's tangles out, he was feeling much more relaxed.

He held the comb out for Rori who took it and turned to him.

"Thank you," she said in a small voice.

No one but her mother had ever brushed her hair before. Such an act was a sign of affection and usually only occurred between relatives or husbands and wives. She wasn't foolish enough to think that Thorin had feelings like that for her, he had probably just seen her distress and offered to help. Besides, being unkempt (when not in the throws of battle) was a sign of dishonour and he had probably had enough of looking at her nest-like hair.

"Would you like me to groom your beard?" she asked, since returning the favour was only polite.

Thorin seemed to hesitate over his answer but finally he nodded so she began teasing the comb through the ends of his beard, working her way up.

With her eyes focused on her task, Thorin took the opportunity to watch her. He smiled as she bit down on her lip while she focused on working a small tangle out.

She was such an odd creature, so unlike almost any other dwarf he had met. Small and bookish but with a sharp mind and an intelligence that was rare among his kind. There was a time when he would have viewed such qualities with disdain but after spending many months with Gandalf, he had been forced to admit that there was merit in such things.

She had such knowledge of things he could only dream of and her stories seemed endless. Indeed the worst part of travelling through these mountains was the need to go single file for so much of the time, so that she couldn't keep him entertained.

Her gentle brush strokes were soothing him, making him feel drowsy and content. As she reached his chin, she looked up at him for the first time, smiling coyly as she noticed his scrutiny.

She quickly looked away again, blushing. He stilled the hand which held the comb with his left hand and put his right index finger under her chin, gently tilting her head up.

"Look at me," he said, but it was a plea not an order.

Slowly Rori raised her gaze to meet his and swallowed at her close proximity to him. Thorin edged closer to her and she closed her eyes in expectation. He was close enough to feel her breath on his lips when something thumped to the ground beside him; causing them both to turn and look.

Morgana looked sorry to have interrupted them.

"I didn't mean the book to fall," she said, sounding almost fearful. Lying beside the book was the bridle that she had also stolen. "I'm sorry."

Her contrition melted any annoyance that Rori might have felt.

"I won't tie you to me for dropping a book," she assured the fairy. "Thank you for returning our things; you are free to go."

Morgana hovered there for a moment, unable to believe that these people would not break their word. Men, elves, dwarves, hobbits, they all broke their word, after all who wouldn't want a magical servant?

"I mean it, go with our blessing," Rori smiled. "But try not to irritate too many travellers, hey?"

Morgana bowed low, then quick as a flash she flew away.

Rori felt uncomfortable and refused to turn back to Thorin. What she had felt must have just been a dream or fantasy. The act of sharing such an intimate grooming process must have addled his (and her) brain for a moment, but the moment was gone now and it would not be coming back any time soon.

Thorin was quick enough to realise that he couldn't recapture that feeling and so he turned away also.

"There are still a few hours of night left," he said, somewhat gruffly. "We should make the most of them."

"Of course," Rori agreed. She kept her back to him as she went over to her bedding and curled up under her cover. She had thought that she would never sleep after what had almost happened but it was nearly dawn and she was exhausted; as such she soon fell into a deep slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

They awoke slightly later than usual the following day and in her rush to get started, Rori had been planing to skip shaving today. She was getting better at it but she didn't really enjoy it. They had run into a few other travellers on their way to the mountains but since entering the range, only last nights faerie.

She went to help Thorin saddle and load the ponies.

"I'll do this, you go and shave," he said briskly.

Rori turned away as she felt tears stinging her eyes. She had agreed to shave in order to come on this journey, and she intended to keep her word but it was actually getting harder with time rather than easier. Sure, she cut herself with much less frequency but removing what little beard she had twice a day was starting to get her down.

She grabbed up her bag with the razor and mirror in and headed around an outcropping of rock. This was easier if she did it alone. When she had finished she dried her eyes, feeling angry at herself for getting emotional at all, and took a few deep breaths before returning to her King.

Thorin realised that she had been upset and felt bad for making her shave for a moment. The reasoning was sound, for without a beard and in hobbit clothes, she did not look like a dwarf but in all honesty, he had not realised until now just how hard it must be for her. He had seen the strength she had shown in the face of humiliation after her father had made her shave and he had wrongly assumed that she was always that strong. He knew that he'd been fooling himself because he didn't want to think of her pain.

He didn't say anything but got on his pony and they headed off, deeper into the mountains.

They stopped to camp again that evening and they could tell that summer was quickly losing ground to Autumn, and Rori shivered as the setting sun left a chill in the air. Although he knew that he shouldn't use what little wood they had brought with them, Thorin nevertheless started making a fire.

Rori didn't question him but simply picked up her shaving bag again.

"Rori," he called, stopping her before she could leave the camp. She turned back. "I... I wondered if... well, would you mind if I...?" He held his hand out for the bag she held.

Although he had phrased it as a question, Rori felt unable to deny him anything since he was her king so she handed the bag over, wondering what he wanted with it. He merely set it aside for a moment while he continued building the fire. Rori waited patiently for him to finish.

When he was done, he picked up the bag and began searching through their belongings until he found his own wash bag, a flask and a bowl; he then sat down with his back against a rock and gestured for her to join him. She suddenly realised that he didn't want to see the bag, rather he wanted to shave her. Had she disappointed him in some way? Was this her punishment? For surely the only thing worse than removing ones beard, was having someone else remove it.

Still, he was her king and she would do as he asked. She sat down beside him and he guided her down until her head was resting in his lap. She closed her eyes and waited.

Thorin took a bar of soap from his own wash bag, poured some water into the bowl and lathered up the bar. Slowly he rubbed the foam into her lower face, marvelling at the odd feel of her stubble. When he was satisfied that he had covered her lower face, he opened the razor and set about removing her beard. Each section of skin that he revealed was porcelain smooth and beautiful.

The chin area was difficult but he took his time, savouring his task. As he tilted her head further back to do her neck and chin, he saw her bite down on her lower lip and suddenly found himself having some very impure thoughts. It didn't help that her head was resting in his lap. He saw her lip turn white with pressure as he ran the razor up from her neck. She relaxed as soon as he was done and the faith she had placed in him, allowing him access to her neck with a cut throat razor, was most heartening to him.

When he was nearly finished, he noticed a tear leak from the corner of her eye and run onto his trousers, causing him to frown. He finished her cheek, doing his best not to harm her, then patted her face dry with the shirt that had become a rag.

"Why are you crying?" he asked when he had finished.

Realising that he had finished, Rori sat up so that her back was to him.

"I have displeased you," she said.

"What would make you say that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Why else would you remove my beard yourself if not to punish me?" she asked.

Thorin reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I... like you without the beard," he admitted. "Your skin is so soft, your face so perfect... I didn't realise it was causing you so much pain until this morning. I offered to do it for you this evening because I enjoyed you grooming my beard last night... I thought this was a way I could return the gesture, I did not mean to hurt you."

"I look gruesome without the beard," she said, ignoring the second half of his statement.

Thorin turned her to face him, gripping her shoulder tightly to hold her in place.

"There is nothing gruesome about you, Rori, don't ever say that!" he almost shouted, displeased to hear such language from her. Couldn't she see that she wasn't different, she was special?

Rori watched as his heated gaze left her eyes and travelled to her lower face. His grip on her shoulders slackened as his expression softened.

"I think you're beautiful," he confessed, his hands finding their way to her face as his thumbs began to caress her cheeks. "I was fascinated by your lack of beard in the beginning but as it began to grow back, I found myself hating the wretched thing for hiding any part of your perfection from me. It was wrong of me to ask you to keep shaving for this trip, I should have found another way for you to accompany me but in all honesty, I cannot say that I am sorry."

Rori was too stunned by his words to form a coherent response.

"But..."

"But what?" he asked kindly.

"I'm nobody," she said. "I have neither fame nor fortune, nor even respect."

"You have my respect," he told her. "And I have fame and fortune enough for the us both."

"You're too-" she was about to say that he was too old to take a wife but she realised that of course he probably wasn't thinking of her as a potential mate, just as some fun. No dwarf got to nearly 200 years old and then decided to take a wife. If she was lucky she might become his companion, his concubine, but he could never consider someone like her as queen material.

"Too what?" he asked.

"Too kind," she lied. "I am as boring and dull as it is possible for a dwarf to be. I do not enjoy fighting or drinking very much, I have little talent for metal forging and I favour sedate hobbies. I don't even much like gold, it is impractical and far too soft a metal to be truly useful, in my opinion."

"You are right," Thorin chuckled. "Gold is only useful for looking pretty and mounting jewels in, but no jewel or precious metal comes close to your beauty."

"Stop that," she said, pushing his hands off her face and standing up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking up at her, perplexed as she walked to the edge of the outcrop of rock on which they were camped and stared out over the mountain range.

"Don't make fun of me like that," she said in a small voice. "I am your subject and if you ask me to share a bed with you, I will do so, only please stop making fun of me like this."

"What?" he asked, getting to his feet but not approaching her.

"Your words are dangerous," she said. "I could start to believe them and when reality comes crashing back in, I will be devastated; even more so that I was when my father made me remove my beard. I know that I am considered strange and am frequently the subject of gossip, I am just grateful that they usually do so outside of my hearing. I could not bare to think I was normal and accepted, only to feel the sting of rejection once more when we return home. I come from a warrior race and I believe that in many ways I am strong but still, there is only so much that I can stand."

At that moment, Thorin realised that she had been more throughly undermined by her father than he had thought. Her bookish nature was unusual among dwarves, but not so much so that she was a subject of ridicule. Indeed he had asked around about her while she had been busy working on the Orcrist, and every dwarf he had spoken to had a good or kind word to say about her.

Fip Jewlin spoke of the elvish sword making techniques that she had described for him, which had enabled him to improve his methods and make much stronger swords. Ela Kindlund said how Rori was always ready to help out any dwarf who was unwell, having a myriad of herbal remedies, medicines and poultice recipes at her fingertips. Dorma Wonlight had described how Rori had taken all four of her children into her home for weeks when Dorma and her husband come down with Dawrven Fever and had been unable to look after four young, boisterous boys. Many of the male dwarves also mentioned what a bonnie dwarf she was, now that she had reached full maturity.

She was not only well liked but also respected, and she wasn't aware of any of it.

"You are beautiful and I want you more than I can say," he said softly. "But I will not lie with you until you believe that also."

He turned away to where the horses were standing and began to go through the bags which were lying beside to them. He sorted out their feed bags then began looking for their dinner. Since it had been a long day with very little sleep and some rather raw feelings exposed, he chose to get some of the cured meat out and a bottle of ale for them to share as a treat.

"You must be hungry," he said, sitting beside the fire and beginning to warm the ham that he had sliced off.

Rori came and joined him. She silently took the mug of ale he handed her, and later the plate of ham and biscuits.

"Tell me a story?" he asked as he began eating.

"Please-" Rori sighed.

"If you don't, I will order you to," he said, his tone broking no argument. "I don't care if you believe me or not but I enjoy your tales and I want to hear more."

"Then you must order me to, Sir."

Thorin raised his eyebrows.

"Very well. Your king commands you to tell him a story of adventure and bravery."

Rori thought for a moment, silently sulking at being forced to show her bookish side after their earlier fight but still, she would not disobey him. She remembered an elvish children's story about a young elf who left home cocky and arrogant and though the trials he endured on his journeys, returned home confident and brave.

The story lasted for an hour or so and after a few minutes, she forgot to be self conscious and her earlier storytelling style began to reassert itself but by the time she had finished, they were both feeling tired and were ready to sleep.

Thorin made a point to approach her as she made up her bed. She turned to him, though her head was bowed, probably fearing the worst of him. He raised her chin with one finger again.

"Good night, my story teller. Thank you for sharing your gift with me." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well," and then, he left her and began preparing his own bed.

Thoroughly confused, Rori made herself comfortable on her bed and although she expected to be awake for hours, reliving and replaying their earlier arguments, she soon drifted off into a deep sleep.

She was woken a few hours later by something furiously shaking her shoulder.

"Wake up! Oh please wake up. Please!"

Rori rubbed at her eyes and turned to the voice.

"Mor-" Rori just had enough presence of mind to realise that she couldn't say the faerie's name as it would be the third time. "What do you want?" she asked.

"Goblins are coming," the faerie cried. "Please hurry, they aren't far away now."

Rori was on her feet in a flash and ran over to Thorin, quickly waking him.

"Orcs," she said.

Thorin needed nothing more and as quickly and quietly as he could, he threw off his covers and drew his sword.

Rori also drew her sword and they stood back to back on the path, a common defensive position. The horses were closest to the rock face where they could rest easily without worrying about falling over the edge, so they were relatively protected from any confrontation.

"Where?" Thorin asked quietly.

Rori looked to Morgana who was hovering beside them. Thorin looked at her too, seeming to notice her for the first time. Rather than pointing left or right along the path, Morgana pointed down.

Thorin and Rori shared a look over their shoulders, then they carefully leaned out over the cliff edge. Six shapes were scaling the rock face as easily as if it were a flight of stairs.

Rori and Thorin looked at each other again, wondering how to fight an enemy from above.

Just then Morgana flew into their line of sight, though her path was uneven and she was having trouble keeping herself in the air because of the large rock she was holding. It wasn't large by human standards, nor even by dwarf standards, but it was extremely heavy for faerie. She dropped the rock over the edge but it skipped harmlessly off the first orc and completely missed the others. Still, it wasn't actually a bad idea.

Thorin quickly looked around but there were no decent sized rocks or boulders in the vicinity. Well, if there were none, he'd just have to make some. He jammed his sword into a crack in the rock face and strained with all his might. The rocks moved a fraction but no more. Rori jammed her sword in below his and they both tried to pry some rocks loose but to no avail.

"Move!" Morgana cried and when they had withdrawn their swords and stepped back, she threw something into the crack in the rock face that a moment later exploded. The rocks crumbled into a pile on the mountain path. Thorin and Rori quickly picked up two larger ones and hurled them off the edge of the path at the orcs below. Not a moment too soon either as they were barely five feet below them now.

Thorin's rock hit the closest orc and sent him tumbling from the rock face, Rori's hit it's target but her orc managed to hold on. They repeated the action, over and over, putting as much force as they could behind the rocks.

They heard another small explosion behind them and realised that Morgana had liberated some more rocks for them to use as missiles. Before much longer thay had knocked five orcs from the mountainside and the remaining one looked indecisive. Thorin raised a rock above his head but the orc must have decided that discretion was the better part of valour, as he let go of the cliff face and fell back to join his fiends.

"They'll come back," Morgana said. "Ever since they were defeated in the battle, they've been fending for themselves in small packs and some of them are almost feral. They won't give up now that they know your scent."

"Thank you for warning us," Rori said to Morgana as she went to calm the ponies, who seemed most upset after all the action.

"Why did you help us?" Thorin asked the faerie.

"You let me go," Morgana said. "Not many people would have, so I've been keeping an eye on you."

"Are you sure you weren't planning more mischief?" he asked.

"No mischief," Morgana looked sad. "I can't afford to risk upsetting you."

"But wouldn't it be better for you if we were dead?" he asked.

"Maybe," Morgana shrugged. "But I don't meet many people, especially nice ones who keep their word. But we can discuss this later, you must move on now. If I know goblins, and I think I do, they'll be regrouping and will come at you again within a few hours. Some have even overcome their fear of daylight now, they're that hungry. Please hurry and pack up your things."

"How far are we from the edge of the mountains?" Rori asked, having heard the conversation.

"Almost a week," Morgana answered. "But I can show you a short cut that will speed your journey and help you avoid them."

"You could be leading us into a trap," Thorin pointed out.

"I cannot help you if you won't trust me," Morgana pointed out.

"I think we should trust her," Rori argued. "Fairies are renowned for knowing the quickest route between two points and if she wished us harm, she could have let those orcs kill us."

Thorin looked from Rori to the fairy. He was naturally inclined to distrust strangers and even more so in this case, given the problems the faerie had tried to cause. Still, Rori had point and it seemed an awful lot of trouble for a creature to go to if she wished them harm.

"Very well, but I know your name too so if there's any funny business, I will enslave you faster than you can blink. Understood?"

Morgana nodded. "But please, we must go now!"

Rori and Thorin loaded and saddled the ponies and followed Morgana as she began to lead them along the trail. When they came to a fork on the path, Morgana took them on the lower road rather than the higher path and by the time dawn was breaking, they were travelling in the valley between two mountains.

Thorin was ready for attack from any direction but he didn't argue with the faerie any more. Finally he saw the end of the valley approaching and was pleased that they would have to go up again but instead, the faerie guided them into a cave on the left side of the valley.

Thorin and Rori both paused at the entrance and looked at each other.

"We've come this far," Rori said, though she too was holding her reins with only one hand, her other resting on her belt, near her sword.

"This is a faerie path," Morgana said, turning back once she realised that they were no longer following her. "No one dares travel a faerie path, even if they don't believe in us."

"Then why would you allow us safe passage?" Thorin asked.

"Because it's the fastest way out of the mountains. Besides, we don't hurt people who walk the path, only those who block it."

Thorin was willing to take the risk. He was King Under the Mountain after all, so caves were not frightening to him. They followed the fairy in and after a right turn, they followed a path that ran beside an underground spring.

Most people would have lost all sense of time without the sun to help separate days, but being underground was normal for dwarves and their body-clocks kept impeccable time.

Morgana didn't need to sleep but she paused each evening to allow them to rest (as long as they camped to the side of the path, therefore allowing fairies free passage) and after two days underground, they emerged from the underground tunnel into bright sunshine on the other side of the Misty Mountains.

Thorin stopped his pony and turned to Morgana.

"We are in your debt," he told the faerie. "If you should ever need assistance, you can count on the Dwarves of Erebor to offer any aid you may require."

"Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's Folk, King Under the Mountain and Friend of the Fey." Morgana bowed to him then turned to Rori and bowed. "And Rori Storyteller, Queen Under the Mountain and Friend of the Fey. May your journey be swift and may the gods watch over you and keep you safe."

Rori didn't know what to say to that, she was not Queen, nor was her name Storyteller but to correct the faerie seemed impolite, so she simply bowed her head.

"Thank you for your help."

Morgana smiled and held out a small leather purse to Rori.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Dust," Morgana grinned. "Take some, wish what you want it to do, like when I made it exploded to loosen the rocks, then throw or sprinkle the dust and it will do as you ask."

Rori had no intention of using something she didn't understand (not to mention that the tiny purse could only hold a very small amount) but she realised that this was indeed an important gift. She had read about faerie dust in her books but she had never heard of a mortal being given any.

"Thank you."

Morgana bowed once again then flew away, back into the cave entrance they had just come from.

"Where are we?" Rori asked.

"Not where we should be," Thorin said darkly. "Over there, that is the Ettenmoors."

Rori knew that the Ettenmoors were home to all kinds of evil creatures, from Orcs to Trolls and a few more besides. She looked at the spring they had followed out of the mountains which, thanks to a few other tributaries joining it, was now wide enough to be called a river. If she remembered her geography correctly, that river would lead them through Rhudaur. Uninhabited, save for a few Watchmen, that was the safer route to take.

"That does not mean it is without risk," Thorin reminded her after she had explained where the river led. "Who knows what may have moved into this land since the men left."

Rori agreed with him and they both continued on their way with a grim determination. If luck was with them, the land truly would be uninhabited but if not, there was no saying what dangers might lay ahead.

They travelled by the river until nightfall, when they headed away from the water to make their camp. Despite the ability to ride side by side now, Thorin hadn't asked her to keep him entertained since they left the misty mountains, he preferred to keep his attention focused on what might be lurking around them. They didn't light a fire that evening but rather ate in silence and then went to sleep.

They arose the next morning and headed back to the river to follow it south. At times Thorin could have sworn that he could sense something following them but he could find no evidence of anything.

On the third night he became certain that something was tracking them. They camped away from the river again and Thorin tried to act relaxed. He lit a fire and opened a few bottles of ale which he shared with Rori, though he topped her glass up far more frequently than his own. Then after a hearty meal he asked for a story, which Rori was happy to provide, complete with songs. Rori felt merry but the truth is that she was more than a little drunk.

She was glad that Thorin seemed so relaxed. She hadn't seen any evidence of something evil lurking around them but his mood had rubbed off onto her, which made her tense too. She hoped that now that they had put some distance between them and the Ettenmoors, they could get back to the easy camaraderie they had shared at the beginning of the trip.

It felt odd to think they had left the Lonely Mountain less than three weeks ago, it felt like a lifetime.

Feeling dozy from the ale, Rori didn't even bother to make her bed up this evening but simply laid down by the fire and began to snore loudly.

Thorin smiled, enjoying drunk-Rori rather a lot. She couldn't hold her liquor, that was for certain, but she was a good drunk. Some dwarves became aggressive after imbibing too much alcohol but Rori became friendlier, less shy and she laughed much more readily, and often at some truly poor jokes on his part.

He made a show of draining the last of his ale then followed Rori's lead and laid down beside the fire to sleep.

Anyone watching then could have been forgiven for thinking Thorin was as drunk as Rori, which was indeed what the orc who had been following them thought. His companions had been too badly injured by the rocks Thorin hurled at them to continue to give chase. Some tried but they couldn't keep up with Gormog.

Gormog had been in the hall of the Goblin King when Thorin and his company had killed their king. He had also been at the battle of five armies and had just barely managed to escape with his life, but it pleased him to know that Thorin was dead. When he had caught Thorin's scent again in the mountains, he hadn't believed that it could be him but it had been, and now the only thing Gormog wanted was revenge.

His life had been hell since the orc king had been killed. The few remaining orcs who had survived the battle, lived on what scraps they could find in the mountains. They were little more than animals now and Gormog longed for the days of ease, when their numbers ensured their safety and that their society thrived.

As far as Gormog was concerned, this dwarf was to blame for all the misfortune that his kind had suffered and Thorin would pay. Gormog even dared to brave the sunlight to ensure that he could have his vengeance on Thorin.

And now he had his chance. Thorin thought that the danger had passed and in true dwarf style, had celebrated with a hearty meal and a few bottles of ale. Now he was passed out in front of his fire, as helpless as a new born child.

Gormog crept forward from his hiding place, careful to make as little noise as possible, and slowly he approached the two dwarves. He hesitated for a moment as he saw the Orcrist catch the firelight. He considered fleeing for that sword had seen the demise of many orcs but he had come too far to let his courage fail him now. He picked up a rock which he planned to use to smash Thorin's head in with (since he had no weapons these days) and crept to the edge of the treeline.

Thorin hadn't moved but his hobbit companion was snoring loudly. Perhaps he wouldn't kill her immediately. He and his friends could have some fun with her before they ate her.

He stepped out of the cover of the trees and in three steps, covered the ground to Thorin. He was somewhat surprised when Thorin kicked out with all his might, catching him in the shin and causing him to howl in pain as he fell over. Thorin was on his feet seconds later, the Orcrist drawn and swinging down at his head. He somehow deflected the blow with the stone he was carrying and got to his feet as quickly as he could.

Thorin was already coming at him so he did the first thing that occurred to him that could save his life, he ran to the hobbit who was travelling with Thorin, intending to use her as a shield. He didn't have much fondness for hobbits anyway.

To his surprise, though not steady on her feet she was also upright, her sword drawn and up close he noticed something that he had missed while he followed them. She had a very slight beard!

"You're no hobbit!" he cried, suddenly realising that he was facing two dwarves, not one!

Still momentarily stunned by the unfairness of it all, he barely felt it as Thorin's sword removed his head from his shoulders and he fell down, dead.

"Are you okay?" Thorin asked Rori.

"Um, fine," she answered, still somewhat confused by this turn of events.

Thorin nodded and dragged the orc's body away from their camp, picking up the head as he passed it.

Rori built the fire up a little more then sat beside it, wondering when her pleasant evening had changed into an attack. Her dwarf reflexes had caused her to jump to her feet and draw her sword when she heard the orc scream, but she still had no clue what had happened.

Thorin returned to camp a few moments later and she was surprised to realise that he didn't look any the worse for wear. In fact he looked stone cold sober. She looked to the three bottles of ale that lay beside the fire and realised that she must have drunk the majority of it, which would explain why she felt so bad while Thorin looked so good.

"He'd been following us," Thorin explained. "I had to make him think that we had dropped our guard so that he would make his move."

She didn't much like the idea that he had left her unable to defend herself properly but then again if one of them had to be counted out, she was the better choice as Thorin was a thousand times the fighter that she was. She would probably feel better about it in the morning, when her thoughts weren't quite so fuzzy. Yes, she decided, that was a very good idea, so she laid back down and went to sleep, Thorin's hearty laugh accompanying her into dream land.

Thorin had to laugh really, for she had looked so confused by everything. Hardly surprising considering how much alcohol he had give her this evening, but to see the girl who knew everything (at least it felt like that sometimes) looking so confused was probably the funniest thing he had witnessed all year.

She began snoring loudly again and Thorin got her blanket out of their belongings and placed it over her, before getting his own bedding out and settling down for the rest of the night,


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Thorin hadn't slept well for a few nights now, so although he hadn't drunk much last night, he woke up later than normal the next day. He was still up well before Rori though. He let her sleep, knowing that the only real cure for a hangover was rest and that he was to blame for her over indulgence.

He had seen to the ponies then saddled and loaded them and, unused to inaction, he decided to take their flasks to the river and refilled them, even though they would be following the river all day. By the time he got back, Rori was awake and rummaging through her bags.

"Morning," he said as pleasantly as he could. He could tell from a small cut on her cheek that she had already shaved that morning.

Rori mumbled a reply as she dropped some power into a little water and swallowed it in one mouthful, grimacing at the taste.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Willow bark." she said, swigging some pure water from a flask. "It helps," she said.

"I saw a new side of you last night," Thorin said. "And I thought your rendition of the Song of Durin was truly deserving of a wider audience."

Rori blushed. "I didn't really sing that, did I?" Her memories of last night were decidedly fuzzy.

"You really did," he said smiling. "But my favourite thing was when you kissed me and told me that I could have my wicked way with you."

"I- I- I-..." She turned away, not knowing what to say. How could she have thrown herself at him? Yes, he was a virile man and she was certainly attracted to him, but people like her did not throw themselves at people like him! Not even when drunk!

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice small. "I would never want to embarrass you like that or-"

He had thought that he would enjoy teasing her but seeing how mortified she looked, he was beginning to regret it.

"You did sing," he said, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "But you didn't kiss me, I made that part up."

He wasn't prepared for her to turn around and punch him. She may have been slight for a dwarf but she still packed a punch! She continued to hit his arm as she advanced on him.

"Of all the low down, cheap tricks, you-"

As Thorin moved backwards his heal slipped on a lose stone and he fell, landing on his arse.

"Oh no!" Rori cried, immediately realising that, one, you shouldn't hit or shout at your king no matter what he had done and two, you shouldn't let him land on his arse. Surely this was treason or something equally heinous. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" she asked kneeling down beside him.

To her surprise, Thorin burst out laughing. He had found her fiery outburst incredibly sexy but at the same time, he couldn't believe that a slight thing like her had just caused him to fall! The predicament was too funny for words.

Rori still looked panicked though so he did his best to quell his laughter, though he couldn't stop his smile.

"Shall we call it even?" he asked, sitting up.

"You're not angry?" He saw hope blossom in her eyes.

"Well, I suppose technically you did strike your monarch."

She looked down, ashamed.

"My lord, I-"

"I could be persuaded to overlook it I suppose... for a kiss."

She looked at him, this time surprised. He waited for an answer but when one didn't come, he decided to press his luck. He closed the space between them and gently pressed his lips against hers. She closed her eyes so he followed suit then deepened the kiss. She tasted sweet, a little like pineapples.

He had never felt a simple kiss so deeply before and he was loath to end it but knowing that he shouldn't push her too far, he pulled away and watched her. Her expression was hard to read but he thought that she enjoyed it; and indeed she had.

By some freak of nature, only about a third of dwarves were female, as such female dwarves approaching 100, full maturity in a dwarf, get their fair share of attention. Which is not to say that males are lining up at the door of single women, indeed many males didn't seem interested in finding a wife and those that were were very respectful. Mating in the dwarf world was for life and no one took it lightly. She had been on a few outings with men she thought that she might like but she had only liked two of them enough to try kissing them and neither time had been anything like that!

As his lips touched hers she felt strange, as if she had come home, although she couldn't tell you what she meant by that.

Suddenly she realised that the kiss had ended some moments ago and though reluctant to break the spell, she opened her eyes.

The look on Thorin's face was unusual. He looked... not exactly happy but very content, as though he would have no regrets if he had died this very moment. Rori felt much the same and smiled shyly. Thorin reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly running over the smooth skin he found there.

Unfortunately the spell was broken as a deer charged past them, a wolf hot on it's heels, and they pulled away from each other.

Rori didn't know what to say and Thorin was feeling much the same. He wanted to declare his love for her but he knew that she was skittish and so he decided to leave it for now.

"We should move on," he said, getting to his feet. "We have already lost almost two hours of daylight."

Rori nodded and took the hand he offered her to help her up. Her headache was gone and she had to wonder how much of that was due to the willow bark and how much was because of Thorin's kiss. Willow bark wasn't usually _this_ effective!

They rode off together and today Rori actually asked Thorin if he had heard the story of how the Lonely Mountain got it's name. He had but he wanted to hear her version of the story, and that took them up to lunchtime when they stopped briefly to eat. That afternoon she asked him to tell her the story of one of his battles, which surprised him but he began telling her about the quest to reclaim Erebor.

Rori listened with great interest. Everyone had heard the story of the quest but few got to hear it from a first hand source. Thorin was a pretty good story teller, she decided, knowing when to skip ahead and when to slow down, according to how interesting that portion of the story was. He seemed hesitant towards the end of the telling, once Smaug was dead and they had reclaimed the mountain. She knew from other versions that he regretted some of his actions before the battle began so she didn't press him for information.

He finished the story of the battle over dinner that evening and then they slept.

Over the next few days they traded stories. Sadly Rori had very few tales of her own to relay but she had plenty of other peoples stories that she could tell. He asked about her journey from the Blue Mountains to the Iron Hills when she was young, but her father had chosen the longest and safest route possible, so she didn't even have any stories to relate from that adventure.

They came across a few ruins as they crossed Rhudaur but no dwellings that were habitable, which was rather a shame as summer finally said goodbye, only to be replaced by storms and what felt like endless days of rain.

They were miserable but kept up their conversations and stories while they travelled. They had no choice but to erect their tents every evening now, which left them less travelling time each day.

Finally they came across the bridge that crossed the river Horawell and from there they could travel the East and then North road's (which had been built by Dwarves in the first age) all the way to the Blue Mountains. Their spirits rose, knowing that the Shire (and warm, indoor accommodations) could not be too far away now.

Neither of them spoke of their kiss but they both frequently thought about it. Rori trying to pluck up the courage to kiss him again and Thorin wondering if he would scare her if he tried again.

As the sunlight faded on the day that they had crossed the bridge, Thorin suggested they should find a camp soon, even though they had hardly gone five miles on the East Road.

"If we only erected one tent, we could travel for longer, couldn't we?" Rori asked, wondering at her own courage for even suggesting such a thing. She was eager to reach civilisation again, even if it was only hobbit villages, but she was also eager to get closer to Thorin. Every evening he sat in her tent so that they could talk but he had always returned to his own tent when it came time to sleep, and each night she felt a little more bereft when he left.

As he had started telling her stories, sharing parts of his life with her, she forgot to see him as her king and slowly she had started to see him as a friend. Suddenly he didn't seem so imposing, nor so out of her league. Indeed he laughed at her jokes, allowed her to laugh at his stories and even though the weather had been miserable, they had enjoyed their evenings undercover. The cover of the tent allowed them to feel a level of privacy that camping outside hadn't afforded.

Thorin looked over at her after her bold suggestion, his gaze inscrutable.

"We could," he finally agreed.

"Then let's ride on," she said, though feeling the need to add, "The further we go each day, the sooner we'll reach an inn." She didn't want to embarrass herself by declaring her feelings for him, after all.

"Right," Thorin said, smiling to himself.

They rode for a further half an hour before finally turning off the road to find a place to camp. It still took quite a while to unsaddle, dry off, place the rugs on the ponies and erect a tent, so it was dark by the time they had finished.

Each tent was supposed to sleep two but really that was all there was room for. Rori lit her oil lamp so that she could see to shave but the light wasn't good enough and she nicked her cheek on the first stroke.

"Here, let me," Thorin offered.

He also didn't have much light, but at least he didn't have the drawback of needing to use a mirror. Besides, Rori quite liked the idea of settling in his lap. Thorin sat facing the side of the tent, positioned everything he needed, then gestured for her to lay down. She settled her head in his lap, thinking that she didn't mind shaving so much now, in fact she was growing rather irritated by her stubble growth each day as it itched. She closed her eyes but Thorin noticed that she had a small smile on her lips and he was confident that they wouldn't have a repeat of the last time he had tried this. He took his time, enjoying the chance to study her unhindered.

As each new piece of skin was revealed, he caressed it with the back of a finger, causing her smile to grow a little wider for a moment every time he did it.

When finally he was finished and had dried her off, she opened her eyes but made no move to sit up. Thorin placed his right hand on her hair and began to stroke it for a few moments.

Rori sat up and turned to face him. Slowly she reached out and began to unpick one of his braids. Despite their waterproofs, the weather had taken its toll on both their hair and although it was unusual for anyone but loved ones to groom each other, Thorin was pleased by her actions. She gently unpicked all his braids then took his comb and began to work the tangles out as gently as she could. Once she had finished with his beard, he turned around to allow her to work on his hair properly.

By the time she was finished, his hair was dry and she separated some strands out and carefully re-braided them. He turned around once more to allow her to braid the front of his hair and his beard. When she was done, she smiled hesitantly at him and presented him with a mirror. Thorin didn't think he'd ever looked finer, even when dressed in full battle armour.

"May I?" he said, holding his hand out for the comb.

It was one thing for Thorin to help her after the faerie had tangled her hair, and his eagerness to shave her could be put down to curiosity, but offering to groom her when she didn't need help was something far more. Rori handed him the comb and turned around so that he could do the same to her.

As she sat there she marvelled that she was sharing something so intimate with him. She had been so shy when they began this trek, so in awe of him and so unsure of herself that she almost couldn't believe how comfortable she felt with him now. She didn't even mind not having a beard, in fact every time she caught him staring at her naked face, he had this small smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look warm and tender, nothing like the hard, awe-inspiring king his subjects thought him to be.

It was also nice to just be with him and not feel the need to talk. For so much of this journey they had been talking or swapping stories but now she knew that talking wasn't necessary to enjoy being with him, for his company alone was enough.

She closed her eyes as the soft patter of rain on the tent roof and his gentle brush strokes began to sooth her. By the time he had finished she felt so content that if she had been a cat, she would surely have purred.

She turned back to him, taking the mirror he handed her and putting it aside without looking at herself, for she couldn't possibly look as beautiful as she felt under his warm gaze. She slowly leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips.

"Thank you," she said, meaning more than just the grooming.

Thorin smiled.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Rori nodded. After what they had just shared, she had been expecting that he would want more from her, and that thought both thrilled and frightened her in equal measure. She took his lack of pressure as a sign of respect however, and it warmed her heart.

In truth Thorin did want more from her and respecting her boundaries wasn't the only reason he was waiting. Inside an old animal skin tent on wet ground, was not where he wanted his first time with her to be. He would have preferred his bed chamber in Erebor, with it's privacy, luxury sheets and warm animal fur covers, however he didn't think that he could wait that long!

Still, she would have the best accommodations that he could find, something befitting a queen, for he already knew that she was his mate. Rori was probably too young to have realised the importance of their first kiss but he was nearly 200 and without a shadow of a doubt, he knew that it meant that she was his soulmate, his queen and his other half.

It was perfect really; he was strong and a good warrior while Rori was small and only an average fighter. He was hot tempered while Rori had a naturally calm nature. He had little time for learning and facts while Rori was a positive fount of knowledge. She completed him in a way no other dwarf ever had. They completed each other.

They ate a simple meal and then decided that they needed to sleep. Rather presumptuously, Thorin laid out only two skins, one as a ground sheet then only one larger one over it as a cover. Rori climbed in beside him. They were both mostly dressed so she didn't know what to expect and was pleasantly surprised when he simply pulled her to him and allowed her rest her head (somewhat hesitantly) on his shoulder.

III

The next two days were just as miserable weather wise but by unspoken agreement, they shared one tent every night, which more than compensated for the miserable days.

When they finally reached the trading town of Bree, where they could rest for a few days and restock their supplies, both were relieved. It was twilight and they were looking forward to a hot meal and a comfy bed out of the rain.

"I think I have callouses developing on my bum," Rori said as she dismounted. It had been an awfully long time since she had spent so much time in a saddle; not since her family had originally left the Blue Mountains in fact.

Thorin smiled and took a quick look. Calloused or not, it looked good from where he was standing.

Her outfit, odd though it was, did nothing to hide her attractiveness. She wore a male hobbits clothes because they were easier to ride in and since the bad weather had started, she wore her longer dwarf trousers so that the rain water didn't collect in her booots, which she had to wear since there was no hiding the fact that her feet were not hobbit sized. It was unusual for hobbits to wear shoes but not unheard of, especially in bad weather.

They stabled the ponies at the Prancing Pony Inn, where they could rest in the dry and be well taken care of, then Thorin went into the inn and booked two rooms, one for him and an adjacent hobbit sized room for Rori. He introduced her as a Rori Teller, a Fallowhide hobbit from the north. Rori had informed him that was the perfect story because Fallowhides were the tallest of the hobbit clans, fair haired, more friendly with other races than most hobbits and they came from the north, quite a distance from the Shire. They were also the rarest kind of hobbit, meaning that they would be very unlucky to run into anyone who could question her about her origins.

The Innkeeper showed Rori to her room first and she put her bags down, took her cloak off and laid down on the bed.

Rori hadn't liked it when Thorin had booked two separate rooms for them but she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Of course he didn't want to be publicly associated with her. She was not his equal after all and if anyone should discover that she was a dwarf and not a hobbit, he would be further shamed by associating with a beardless dwarf.

Still, lying on a clean mattress, she was too happy to dwell on that now. How lovely it would be to sleep inside and on a proper bed for a few nights, then she thought that it would be even lovelier to have a hot bath.

That thought spurred her to get off the bed and examine the bathroom. Unfortunately the bathroom was tiny and the bath even tinier, so small that she wouldn't be able to recline in it. Still, it was better than a cold wash every morning so she turned the taps on and undressed, only to be interrupted a moment later by a knock on her door.

She pulled her travelling cloak on to cover herself up and opened the door expecting the innkeeper to be there, instead she found Thorin standing before her. His gaze quickly took in the cloak, which she was holding closed, and he smiled.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, though he knew full well that he was.

"I was about to bathe," she said simply.

Thorin pushed passed her, went into the bathroom and turned the taps off. He came out and closed her curtains, then he untucked the covers on the bed and began rumpling them up.

"What are you doing?" she asked, thoroughly perplexed by his actions and looking at him as though he was half mad.

"Keeping up appearances," he said as he went through her bags and began throwing items of clothing over the end of the bed. Finally done, he picked up her other bags and slung them over his shoulder, grabbed her hand and almost dragged her from her room and along the corridor to his room.

She stood by his doorway, still holding her cloak closed and slightly shocked at having been practically dragged down the hallway, half naked (okay maybe that was an exaggeration but that's how she felt with only a riding cloak protecting her modesty).

Thorin began unpacking her bag, hanging her clothes, placing her comb on the table and her wash bag in the bathroom. When he came back out he realised that she still hadn't moved.

"What?" he asked,

"I- I..."

"You didn't think I was going to sleep alone, did you?"

Part of Rori was pleased that he wanted her with him and she didn't relish the idea of sleeping alone either but at the same time, she was also slightly afraid of what "sleeping" might involve.

Thorin had no intention of pushing her into anything she didn't feel ready for but he also accepted that, whether she had admitted it or not, she was his mate now. Dwarf couples could be parted from each other when necessary but when given the choice, they disliked sleeping alone and were generally restless. Thorin knew that neither of them would sleep a wink knowing that the other was just down the hallway.

"Just sleeping," he assured her as he came up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Besides, my bath is bigger. Go on," he said gesturing for her to head into the bathroom.

She did as he said and he heard the door lock behind her. Which was a damn good thing really because now all he could think about was what she would look naked, lathering up her arms and...

He cut that thought off there or he would be in danger of joining her, locked door or not! He went back into her room and collected a few more possessions that she would need, such as her boots and the clothes she had simply dropped as she dis-robbed. He then collected his own dirty clothes and took them down to the innkeeper for washing. They had done the best they could while travelling, washing items in rivers and such and hanging them from tree branches to dry, but there was no substitute for a proper clean. Besides, with the rain of late they hadn't had a chance to wash anything for over a week.

He then headed into the bar and ordered a pint of ale to keep himself occupied and by the time he got back to the room, Rori was fully dressed and had just finished combing out her hair in front of the wall mirror above the writing desk.

"You weren't long," he sounded surprised.

"No, well I thought you might want a bath too. I ran you a fresh one but you might need to add some more hot water."

Thorin nodded. "I ordered two meals to be sent up," he said. "They should be here soon."

"I'll take care of it," she assured him.

Thorin headed into the bathroom, closing although not locking the door behind him.

Rori looked around the room. There wasn't a table to eat from so there was nothing that she could set up. She wanted to climb into bed and eat there, but it would raise more than a few eyebrows to find a 'hobbit' in a dwarfs room as it was, let alone in his bed! She stayed at the writing desk and decided to write a shopping list for tomorrow, at least that way it would look like she was working.

There came a knock at the door and she opened it to find a serving girl carrying a large tray.

Finding herself facing a hobbit rather than a dwarf, the girl hesitated.

"Is this Thorin Oakenshield's room?" she asked.

"Yes. He's enjoying a bath. I'm Rori," she held her hand out. "His translator."

"Oh," she girl smiled, pleased that her presumptions were wrong. Not that she frowned upon interracial relationships, they just weren't very common at all and she had been slightly wrong footed. "I hear he's a bit of a tyrant," the girl confessed softly as she set up a portable table and laid the food out.

"At one time he may have been, but he's been very pleasant to me and I think his people have a great respect for him." Rori wanted to be stronger in her defence of him but it would probably look odd, so she bit her tongue.

"Oh, well," the girl finished laying out the food and drink, then turned to Rori. "Enjoy your meals."

Rori was pleased to close the door behind her. This was the first time she'd really tried to play her roll of hobbit and she was nervous. They had met a few other travellers on their journey but they had never stopped long enough to say more than a few pleasantries to them.

Thoin emerged moments later, dressed only in a towel which was secured at his waist, his long hair was still wet.

"Did I hear our food arriving?" he asked.

Rori was momentarily struck dumb by the sight of him, half naked with his damp skin glistening in the candlelight.

"Rori?" When she didn't answer he turned to face her and found her staring, open mouthed at his chest. Good, it was nice to know he wasn't the only one being effected by their attraction. "Rori?" he tried again. "I see the food arrived," he pointed to the table behind her.

"What?" she looked up at his face then turned to the food and surmised what he must have said. "Oh, yes."

Thorin smiled and took some clean clothes into the bathroom to change. He emerged barely a minute layer, the thought of a hot meal making him hurry.

The food wasn't fine fare but it was hot, tasty and there was lots of it. They washed it down with a pint of ale each and by the time they were finished, both their eyes were growing heavy.

"Come on," he said, heading to the bed.

He undressed but left his long shirt on and climbed under the fur covers. Following his example, Rori did the same and climbed in the other side. She perched on the very edge of the mattress, her back to Thorin until he reached out and pulled her to him.

"I don't bite," he said, which finally relaxed her enough to settle against him and moments later they were both sound asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

They slept late the next morning, both enjoying the luxury of a bed while they had one. Rori awoke first but didn't immediately move from her position, wrapped in Thorin's embrace with her head resting on his chest.

She really was going to have to do something about her feelings for him; they were only growing stronger with time and she wasn't careful, she would soon be madly in love with him. Well, she corrected, even more madly in love.

She began to wonder what it would be like to be a queen but soon stopped those thoughts and carefully slipped from Thorin's embrace. She went into the bathroom and quickly shaved and dressed before returning to the main room. Thorin was awake now, his arms full of clothes as he waited for his turn in the bathroom. As he passed her, he gave her a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.

"Morning," he smiled.

"Hi," Rori answered, feeling very strange to be waking up with him. Of course she had woken up with him for a few nights now but there was something about being in a proper bed that made it feel different. She tried not to ponder that too much.

After a hearty breakfast in the inns tavern, they headed out into the town of Bree to see about getting some more supplies. It was still raining but there were patches of blue in the sky, which Rori was hopeful that it might mean that the bad weather was about to break.

Rori spoke many languages but she hardly ever got a chance to use them because female dwarves rarely mixed with other races and as such, she relished this opportunity and did most of the talking. Thorin was no slouch on languages but he was not as proficient as Rori.

When they had ordered more food, horse feed and various other sundries to be delivered to the inn, they ate at a nearby tavern and by the time they had finished eating, they could see that the rain had finally stopped.

Rori asked if they might visit a book vendor. Although books were not an interest of his, he was happy to accompany her and watched with interest as she browsed the shelves, enjoying the way her whole face lit up when she discovered a book she liked.

Rori had brought most of her savings with her, hoping to start restocking her library. She purchased fourteen books in that first shop, which she asked to be kept for her to collect on their return journey. Since she was paying in full for the books, the shop keeper was happy to oblige her in that request.

"We will need another pony at this rate," he teased as they exited the third shop.

"Oh!" Rori looked from Thorin to the shop and bit her lower lip, realising that she had probably bought over thirty books in total, and that was indeed a lot of weight for a pony to carry on top of it's usual load.

"Don't worry," he hurriedly assured her. "We will find merchant who trades with Dale and have the books sent that way."

"Is that possible?" she asked.

"This place is full of merchants; there must be some who trade with the men of Dale," he reasoned.

"Do any of them trade with the Erebor dwarves?"

"Probably not. Aside from meat and vegetables which we trade for with the men in Dale and Laketown, we are fairly self sufficient."

Rori still looked hesitant so Thorin threw his arm around her shoulder and laughed. It was amazing that something like getting books delivered could cause her such anxiety.

"We will ask the innkeeper to recommend someone," he said. "Such people are usually a font of local information."

Rori smiled, reassured by his confidence and they headed back to the inn for the evening. They ate in the inn's bar then retired to Thorin's room for the rest of the evening. They weren't nearly so tired this evening so they lay facing each other in bed and talked for a while.

They were discussing Thorin the first, when their sharing of the same name suddenly reminded Rori of something.

"What's your real name?" she asked.

Dwarves are secretive by nature and the names they are generally known by, even the names that appear on their headstones, are their adopted mannish names. Their dwarf names are known only to their own kind and even then, usually only those closest to a dwarf would have cause to know their other name.

You could argue about which name was their "real" name; the dwarf name known only to a few or their man-like names, which were known to many. Regardless, Thorin knew what she was asking.

He smiled warmly at her, pleased that she wanted to know.

"Khuloh," he answered.

"It suits you," she smiled.

"And yours?" he asked.

"Návaín," she said without hesitation. "I was named for my great grandmother."

"That's a lovely name," he told her.

As their gazes locked, their smiles faded and Thorin reached one hand out to cup Rori's cheek. Emboldened by her request to know his dwarf name, he leaned over and kissed her gently. Rori responded, her arms winding around his neck as she deepened the kiss.

She had never experienced anything like the feeling she did when Thorin kissed her. It was more than just passion, it was a feeling of being complete, of being whole for the first time in her life, even though when he was not kissing her, she wasn't aware that anything was missing.

The kiss lasted for a few minutes before Thorin finally pulled away. He hovered over Rori, thinking how beautiful she looked with her hair fanned out across the pillow and her cheeks flushed. She raised her head to kiss him again but he moved away slightly. Rori frowned, looking hurt.

"If we do not stop now, I may not be able to stop at all," Thorin said, his voice deep with desire.

Rori lay beneath him for a moment as she considered his words. Was she really brave enough to go through with this. In the end she decided it was not so much a matter of bravery, more a matter of need. She reached up once again to kiss him, giving him her answer and this time, he did not pull away.

Although it was difficult, Thorin took his time, knowing that he was likely the first person that Rori had ever lain with. He didn't want to frighten her with his ardour nor cause her pain, which was possible during a first coupling. He savoured every inch of her, enjoying the exploration of her body and by the time they were finished, they both felt thoroughly sated.

Thorin hovered above her and with one hand, pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Návaín, isimunme," he said, his voice tender loving.

Shocked, Rori quickly put her hand over his mouth, for his words meant "Navain, my eternal," which was the dwarf mating ritual. If Rori said his name and repeated the phrase, they would essentially be married. Dwarves had no time for complex ceremonies and legalities, if both parties said the others dwarf's name and repeated the phrase, 'my eternal', they were deemed to be married. Even without witnesses present, as long as both parties agreed that the phrase had been uttered, they were married.

Rori wasn't ready to take that final step though. It wasn't that she didn't trust Thorin, she would trust him with her life, she just didn't think very much of marriage, having only had her parents as an example. The idea of getting married to anyone terrified her.

Thorin was a little hurt that she had stopped him since he thought that they were finally on the same wavelength, but he understood her well enough to know that she was not rejecting him. At least he hoped she wasn't.

"I'm sorry," Rori said, taking her hand from his mouth. "I can't,"

"I understand," Thorin said. He rolled off her and gathered her against him, holding her to his side. "When you are ready we shall be wed, and not a moment sooner." He kissed the top of her head.

Their perfect evening had now been soured, for Rori by Thorin pressing the issue of marriage and for Thorin, by Rori rejecting his offer. They lay there in silence for quite some time before sleep claimed them, each lost in their own thoughts and fears; together but alone.

III

The next day was market day in Bree and although they had bought everything they needed for the rest of their journey yesterday, they went to look at the wares on offer. There were all kinds of stalls there and all races seemed to be represented, even dwarves, who tended to sell items such as weaponry and jewellery.

These dwarves hailed from Thorin's Halls in the Blue Mountains and they knew Thorin, since that had been his domain before he had reclaimed Erebor from the dragon. He was still their king, although they had elected a leader to oversee the day to day needs of the dwarves who had remained behind.

Rori was careful to stay quiet as he spoke with them since she did not want to be recognised as a dwarf. She had left the Blue Mountains when she was just 22 years old and so it was unlikely that anyone would remember her, but it paid to be safe rather than sorry.

Thorin asked the stall holders about Ris, Rori's grandfather, and was pleased to hear reports that he was still alive, albeit ailing rapidly. Of course the Blue Mountains were a two week journey from Bree but it was the most recent news available.

He told them that his journey there was to find an old prophecy and introduced Rori as his translator. Although dwarves are quite accomplished when it comes to the languages of other races, they are not infallible and most prophecies were written in old language, sometimes even dead dialects, so they didn't question his need for a translator.

Most of the dwarves at the market were travelling around to different towns each day to sell their wares at each markets, but a few of the stall holders were returning to the mountains the next day, having sold most of their wares and needing to restock. They told Thorin that they would be honoured if he chose to accompany them back. Thorin hedged his bets and said that he wasn't sure when they were leaving, so one of the traders told him to be here in the market square at eleven the following day if he wished to accompany them.

Rori listened to the conversation with decidedly mixed feelings.

They chose not to stop and chat with most of the hobbit stallholders, lest any of them question Rori in too much detail about her origins. Other races did not think ill of her for her lack of beard and neither did the dwarves, since they did not know that she was one of them, so she was becoming more comfortable about being beard-less. She began to wonder if the humiliation of not having a beard was more in her mind than anything else. She had been taught that it was shameful and so she felt shame, but when no one else looked down on her, she began to feel more confident and upon catching her reflection in a mirror or glass a time or two, at times began to think that she looked quite pretty without the beard.

Looking around the large market took up most of the day and then they returned the Inn. Alone in his room, Thorin asked her how she felt about travelling on with the others.

"There is safety in numbers," she answered, "Though we might make slower progress."

"And how do _you_ feel about it?" he clarified, having noticed her reticence when the offer was made.

"I don't know," she said. "Part of me would like their company, to be among my own kind again, but I dread the looks of disdain once they realise that I am a dwarf. Then again, if I keep up the charade of being a hobbit, which will be difficult with the need to shave so often, we will not be able to share a tent and I find that thought most... unsettling."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"If we do travel with them, we must tell them the truth about you," he said. "Once we reach the Blue Mountains, they will feel dishonoured to realise that they had a female in their midst and did not show her the proper respect."

"You will not mind them knowing that your-" she had been about to say wife but she wasn't that, not yet. "That you are associating with a beardless dwarf?"

"You have committed no wrong, my love, you have nothing to feel bad about. Indeed your lack of beard could be seen as a sacrifice on your part to help your king."

"Perhaps," she said, wringing her hands together nervously. "If it is your wish that we travel with them, then I shall do so gladly." She sounded anything but glad at the thought.

"You are no longer my subject, Rori, you are my equal!" he snapped. "For once in your life, venture an opinion and stop deferring to me all the time!"

Rori looked up, shocked by his outburst.

"I am not your equal," she said, in danger of losing her own temper. "Not yet!"

"And who's fault is that?" he asked rhetorically. "You will be my queen one day and the sooner you accept that, the better."

"Don't I have a say in my future?" she snapped back.

"I don't know, do you? I am offering you a choice on your future right now but you will not make one!"

"Fine, then we will travel with the other dwarves and let them see exactly what kind of wife you have chosen for yourself. That might sober you up a little!"

"I am not drunk," he argued. "I see nothing wring with my choice of mate and neither will they!"

"Fine!" she crossed her arms and turned away from him.

"Fine!" he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Rori stood there, wondering why she had said that she wanted to travel with the other dwarves when she would feel shame for the rest of the journey. She knew why though, she was testing herself. This small group of dwarves would be the first to know how far things with Thorin had developed and their reaction would be telling. Would they accept her as a good mate for their king or would they ridicule him for his choice of partner? She couldn't bear it if he was somehow lesser in their eyes because of his association with her, she simply could not do that to him.

III

Thorin didn't have a destination in mind when he stormed out and so he found himself in the inn's tavern, ordering a pint of ale.

"Thorin, my good man, how are you?"

Thorin turned to see Gandalf behind him.

"I had heard that reports of your demise were greatly exaggerated."

Thorin managed to raise himself out of his bad mood long enough to greet Gandalf properly. He knew that he owed this man a great deal and that without his advice, he would never have reclaimed the Lonley Mountain for his people.

"Gandalf, good to see you again. Will you join me?"

"I have a little time to spare," he said, sitting at a smaller bar stool on Thorin's left so that they almost appeared to be almost the same height.

"So what brings you to Bree?" Gandalf asked.

"I'm on my way to the Blue Mountains. There is a prophecy there which might help me understand what happened."

"Ah, yes, I believe I have heard of that one. I can't give you any great details I'm afraid, but I certainly hope that you find the answers you seek."

Thorin grunted.

"Woman trouble?" Gandalf asked, sounding amused.

"Something like that," Thorin agreed.

"Do not trouble yourself too much," Gandalf reassured his friend. "I believe your companion will find the answers she seeks in the mountains also. Try to be patient until then."

Thorin turned and took a hard look at the wizard beside him.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"The same way I knew that Bilbo would be essential to your quest. I do not often know how or why I know these things, only that I do know them."

"She's just so..." he didn't want to speak ill of Rori, so he bit his tongue.

"Infuriating?" Gandalf guessed. "It can be hard when someone we care about cannot see what's good for them, but you don't have the power or the right to change her mind for her. She will come around in her own time."

"Can I have that in writing?" Thorin meant to tease but his tone was to heavy to be mistaken for jesting.

"There are no guarantees in life," Gandalf said. "But try to give her time and I am confident that all will work out for the best."

Thorin nodded, appreciating Gandalf's attempt to cheer him up, even if he was unable to believe his words.

"Ah, there is the gentleman I am meeting," Gandalf said, getting off his bar stool. "It was very nice to see you again, Thorin."

"And you," Thorin said, meaning it.

"If you'll excuse me." Gandalf went off to greet his companion and Thorin was left brooding into his ale glass once again.

Even if Gandalf was wrong and Rori never came around, he was also right and Thorin couldn't change her mind. If she accepted him it had to be of her own free will.

He was still sitting alone at the bar when Rori joined him fifteen minutes later.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking the stool on Thorin's right, which was a similar size to his. "It's hard for me to trust people," she tried to explain.

"So I am just 'people' now, am I?"

Rori glanced around, worried that someone had heard his petulant words but no one had seemed to. While she was dressed as a hobbit, she couldn't appear too friendly with him or they would incite gossip.

"You know you are more than that," she said softly. "But this isn't about you or even us, it's about me. I always vowed that I would never make the same mistake that my mother did when she married my father and... It's just not something I can brush aside." She looked around her to check that no one was listening, then reached out and placed one hand on his arm. "I do love you but I am just not ready for a commitment yet. Please don't hate me, please try to understand."

Thorin did understand but his wounded pride didn't want to. He finally looked over at her and it was her guileless expression which finally softened his heart.

"I don't hate you," he admitted. "You infuriate me sometimes but I could never hate you."

Rori smiled slightly, pleased by his words. He hadn't told her that he loved her, but then she had rejected him last night, so he wasn't likely to place his heart on the line again, at least for a while.

"Can we go upstairs?" she asked. She hated having to keep her distance and watch what she said while they were in public. In fact ever since they had started this journey, alone with him was the only time when she felt normal. She wasn't much relishing travelling with the other dwarves tomorrow but she was prepared to face their scorn.

Thorin nodded at her suggestion and they left the tavern together. To her surprise, Thorin threw his arm around her shoulder as they left. Rori tried to pull away, fearing the stories that such an act might start but his grip was too strong and she couldn't get free without creating a scene. Oh well, she reasoned, Rori the hobbit wasn't real, if he wanted to start the world thinking that he was seeing a hobbit, let him; it was no skin off her nose after all!

III

Rori was nervous the next morning as they approached the other dwarves in Market square. They introduced themselves as Pele, the sword-smith, Arnot a jeweller, Mir his assistant and Bom who traded in miscellaneous wares on behalf of other dwarves.

Thorin introduced himself, though he needed no introduction, and Rori as his translator. They had agreed not to tell the others her true identity until they stopped for lunch, just in case their shock should draw the attention of other town folk.

Since they believed that they had a non-dwarf among their party, they spoke Westron rather than Khuzdul. They rode in pairs, Thorin and Pele leading the group as they were the most respected, Arnot and Bom rode behind them and Rori and Mir brought up the rear. Each of them led a pack pony, though the tradesmen ponies were light on this, their return journey.

Mir wasn't much for talking and so they rode in silence for most of the morning, but she could see the other pairs up ahead chatting away. Rori soon grew bored and entertained herself by reliving some of her stories in her head.

The rain had stayed away and they seemed to be making good time when they stopped for lunch, at a cluster of fallen tree trunks which had been arranged as seating by the road side. Realising that she would probably be nervous, Thorin came to help her from her mount. She noticed Pele and Arnot pointing out his chivalry and whispering to each other.

Rori smiled her thanks to Thorin and tried to ignore the others; if Thorin noticed them, he gave no indication. In the next few minutes things were about to get either a lot easier for them or a lot harder, so Rori took a deep breath and accompanied Thorin over to the fallen trees where the others had gathered, wishing that she felt as relaxed as he looked.

Everyone stared at her as she sat down.

"Now that we are alone, I have an announcement," Thorin said, reverting to the dwarf language. "I'm afraid that Rori and I haven't been entirely truthful with you."

"So you are '_with'_ the hobbit?" Arnot asked also speaking Khuzdul, probably assuming that was one language his translator didn't speak since Dwarves were so secretive about it.

"Yes he is, and I'm not a hobbit!" Rori snapped, her temper overcoming her reticence. "I am a dwarf and you will treat me with respect!"

The others looked a little shocked at her outburst but Thorin was smiling.

"Indeed she is," he confirmed. "Her beard was unfairly removed by an overbearing parent and since she could no longer pass for a male dwarf during transit, we opted for a different disguise."

Suddenly everyone was staring at her but she did her best not to shrink under their gaze. Thorin reached out to take her hand,

"So she is your chosen?" Pele asked.

"She is," he confirmed. "And if I can talk her into it, I would prefer that she remain beardless, I find that I rather like her appearance, odd though it may seem to many of you."

"Why did your father take it?" Mir asked.

"Because I refused his chosen suitor," she explained, wondering if their current acceptance would continue. "He thought that humbling me like this would make me more inclined to see reason."

"Obviously didn't work," Bom said.

"Thankfully, no, but it did lose him his own beard when I discovered what had happened." Thorin said. "Now, I would prefer it if no more was said on the matter."

The other dwarves nodded but conversation was stilted after that. When they got back on the road, Rori rode upfront with Thorin, though since everyone else was quiet or speaking only in a whisper, they weren't inclined to talk much.

They found a place to camp that evening and Rori went off to shave as she usually did. Thorin followed her, knowing that the atmosphere would be upsetting her.

"Things will get better," he said once they were out of earshot of the camp.

"I know," she said, although she was far from certain that she did. She stopped by a large tree which she intended to use for cover.

"If it helps, I think you look lovely."

"But you don't have anything to compare it too," she pointed out.

"I don't need anything to compare it too! I would still want you even if you didn't have a single hair on your head!"

"That's easy to say!" she snapped then took a deep breath to calm herself down before this developed into another fight. "Look, just give me a few minutes, okay? I'll be fine, I promise."

Thorin sighed and headed back to the camp. He arrived back to the sound of laughter which abruptly halted as he came into view.

"I realise that you might think this situation is comical, I can see the funny side myself at times but whatever your feelings, you will behave normally around Rori. This is difficult enough for her as it is. I am still your king."

Duly chastened, the dwarves quickly sobered up.

"We meant no offence," Bom said.

"I'm sure you didn't," Thorin said but he was stopped from continuing when Rori walked past him and into the centre of the camp, she still had a slight stubble growth so she obviously hadn't shaved yet.

"I realise that you are curious," she said, sitting down close to the fire. "I also realise that by hiding my actions they appear shameful, when I actually have nothing to hide." She began to lather up a bar of soap and spread it about her chin. "Feel free to ask me any questions."

Thorin smiled, proud of her. By demystifying the process and the act she was giving them little to talk about behind her back.

They all watched closely while she shaved, seemingly fascinated by the process and when she was finished, she looked each dwarf in the eye.

"Questions?" she asked.

No one spoke for a few moments, though they all had questions.

"Does it hurt?" Mir finally asked, breaking the silence.

"No. I nicked myself a few times in the beginning but I'm getting quite good at it now."

"What does it feel like?" Bom asked.

"I don't know how to describe it really, I haven't felt anything comparable."

"What does your skin feel like?" Arnot asked.

"After I've shaved it's very smooth but it gets rougher as the stubble grows back. It never gets very long though, I shave twice a day in order to keep the charade up."

There were a few more questions which she answered calmly and reasonably. Once the taboo had been broken and everyone seemed to have relaxed, they prepared their evening meal. It turned out that Mir had quite a knack for cooking and prepared a stew for them. It took longer to prepare than usual but was well worth the wait.

For the first time since lunch, conversation flowed freely and it turned out that Pele and Arnot both knew Rori's grandfather.

"He's getting a bit frail now," Pele said. "You couldn't have timed your visit any better."

"He was devastated when you left," Arnot added. "He doesn't talk about you too much these days but after he's had a few pints, he still wonders how you are and what you're up to. He never liked your father much and he always says that he hopes you kept up your love of reading."

"I did," Rori smiled. "I've missed him too, we had so much in common."

After dinner, Arnot asked if she had inherited her grandfathers storytelling ability, to which Thorin grinned and answered for her.

"Indeed she has. Our journey would have been much more tiresome had it not been for her."

They began making requests, did she know the story of the First Battle of Beleriand? What about the Orc War? Or the fable of the dwarf boy who stole his fathers gold?

She only had time for one story that evening but she told the stories they requested (if she knew them) over the rest of the journey. They were often not far from civilisation in this part of Middle Earth and usually got to sleep in a warm bed an average of two nights per week, until finally they began their journey into the Blue Mountains.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

As they travelled through the Blue Mountains, Rori began remembering a lot of things that she had forgotten until now. As they got closer and closer to the settlement, Thorin's Halls in the north of the mountain range, more and more memories started coming back.

Most of all, she had forgotten how very much she enjoyed growing up here, mostly thanks to her grandfather.

As they reached the settlement, word quickly spread that the King had returned and people began to line the streets, welcoming him home. The town was a shadow of it's former glory with most residents having returned to the Lonely Mountain once it had been reclaimed, but the dwarves who stayed behind kept it exceptionally neat and tidy.

Thim, the leader of the remaining dwarves, came out to greet them, bowing to Thorin who stopped his pony and dismounted.

"My king, we are honoured by your presence, how may we be of service?"

He was speaking Westron, assuming Rori to be a hobbit.

"I have come to speak with a man called Ris, an elder of this settlement."

"Ris is well known," Thim assured him. "Come, I will take you to him. Your old rooms are also vacant, I will have them readied for you."

"Thank you."

The others of their party had dismounted as well, Rori followed Thorin while the merchants melded into the crowd, eager to tell tales of their journey back with the king and his unusual bride.

Ris's home was small, not the home that Rori remembered from her childhood but when he answered the door to Thim's knock, she understood why. Ris was not just old, he was ancient now, his spine bent at the top so he was constantly hunched over and his reading glasses were so thick that it seemed as though his eyes took up half his face.

"Well?" Ris asked when no one spoke.

"Our king has returned to speak with you," Thim told him.

Ris looked Thorin up and down but before he could speak, his attention was caught my a glimpse of blonde hair behind him. He peered around Thorin, who stepped aside to give him a better view.

"No," Ris said, stepping closer to Rori. "No, no it can't be!" It wasn't so much that he didn't want to see her, more that he couldn't let himself believe that she was finally here. "Rori?"

"It's me, Grandad," she said, stepping forward and gently embracing him.

Ris showed that there was still life in the old boy yet, as he hugged her back so tightly that her feet left the floor.

"Oh, I've missed you so much," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

"I've missed you too," she said. "I thought about you every day."

"And I you, darling girl. Oh, my stars!"

Thorin could see the puzzled look that Thim was giving him upon realising that Rori was a dwarf, not a hobbit but Thorin shook his head, 'not now'.

"Oh my, how rude of me!" Ris said as he finally released Rori. "You'll be parched and hungry after your journey. Come in, come in, please."

He ushered the three of them into his home and closed the door on the small crowd that was watching events with interest.

He set about making them refreshments and refused all offers of help. Old and frail he may be but he was master of this house and could still provide for it's guests. When finally everyone had a drink, he sat down at the table with them.

"So, I don't suppose you came all this way just to see your dotty old grandfather," he said without any malice. "What can I do for you?"

"We've come to borrow a book, actually," Rori smiled.

"You have no idea how much I hoped that you had kept your love of books," Ris began laughing. "Oh, what a present you have given me."

They chatted easily for a while, Ris seeming completely unfazed by having the king in his sitting room.

"And what of your mother?" he finally asked Rori, almost dreading the answer.

"She's well," Rori said, a dark cloud finally dampening her happiness.

"And your father?" he said. "I suppose he is responsible for that?" he pointed at her chin.

"To begin with, yes, but I've been continuing it so that I could pass as a hobbit while I travelled."

"Eh," he took hold of her chin and pulled her face closer so that he could better examine her. "Suits you," he finally proclaimed, releasing her and sitting back.

Rori laughed in relief. She knew her grandfather had been an odd character but even she had feared how he might react to such a thing.

"Let's let these two catch up," Thorin said to Thim, getting to his feet. "Thank you for your hospitality, Ris, I am in your debt."

"You're welcome, my boy."

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Ris turned a shrewd eye on his granddaughter.

"That young man is besotted with you, if I'm not very much mistaken." he said.

Thorin was hardly young anymore, but Rori simply nodded and smiled. "He is."

"And you?"

"I love him," she confirmed.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Who said there was a problem?" she asked.

His look asked if she thought he was a fool.

"People in love usually get married," he said simply. He got up and made some more tea, in case she would find it easier to talk if he wasn't looking at her. "So why haven't you? It's not like you haven't had the time to get to know each other on the journey."

Rori's happiness faded once again and she sighed. She wondered how he even knew that they hadn't married.

"I'm just so confused," she confessed. "I do love him and I feel like I know that I'll never love anyone else the way I love him but... I don't know."

Ris returned to the table with a pot of tea and poured them both a fresh mug.

"We dwarves don't write down much about ourselves," he said. "Oh, we'll record our battles and our victories but day to day life? Nothing!"

"Grandpa-"

"Hush, child! Now, where was I? Oh yes. There's something called _moirai. _It's the term used for when you meet your soulmate and fall hopelessly and helplessly in love."

Rori had heard the word but she had believed it simply meant 'love'.

"It doesn't happen for everyone," Ris cautioned, "but those it does happen for are truly blessed. It's hard to be separated from your other half for any significant period and the connection between you only strengthens with time."

"You make it sound like a fairytale," she said.

"I suppose in some ways it is," he said. "But I'm trying to help you understand why Dwarf marriages last for a lifetime."

"That isn't always a good thing," Rori argued, thinking of her parents.

"Do you know, there is no law that prevents a couple from separating?" he said. "It's just that so few dwarves want to, even when times get tough." He sipped his tea and sighed as he put his cup down, "Then there are dwarves who marry without moirai. Not many do it, most dwarves who don't meet their soulmate remain single, but some young ones mistake lust for love and rush into things... like your mother."

Rori looked shocked.

"It was never true love, sweetheart, for a dwarf who is in love could never be cruel to his beloved. He was captivated by your mother's beauty and, at least when he was younger, Cori knew how to be charming when he wanted to be. I warned her against the match but she was infatuated. Have you ever wondered why you don't have any siblings?"

"It can be hard," she sounded uncomfortable. "Dwarf women can only conceive once every ten years or so."

"True, but they also need to be in love or they won't become fertile. Your mother soon realised that the man she'd fallen in love with wasn't real, hence they couldn't have any more children." He let out another sad sigh. "When she realised that things weren't right, I think her pride stopped her from leaving. We offered time and again to take you and your mother in but she wouldn't hear of it. When he finally took you away... I should have tried harder."

Rori reached out and put her hand over his as he became tearful.

"It wasn't her pride," Rori said. "I remember many times that he would threaten to hurt me if she left him; he would swear that he would find her where ever she went and that she would never see me again. I think he knew that she would probably return to you and sometimes he would threaten to hurt you and grandma too. She stayed to protect us all, not to protect her pride."

Ris smiled through his tears and pulled a handkerchief out to wipe his eyes.

"Oh, look at me, silly old man getting all emotional over things that happened decades ago."

"You aren't a silly old man," she assured him. "I've been trying to get her to leave for years too, but all she ever says is that dwarf marriages are for life. I had no idea that she didn't have to stay with him."

"Your mother was always very kind but she wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. Maybe she really believes what she says, or maybe he has finally beaten her spirit down, either way, she has endured a loveless marriage but she is the exception, not the rule. Only you can say if this man is your _moirai_ but if he is, you will know it."

"How?" she asked.

"Because when you are with him, you will feel like you've come home, no matter where you are. You will want to do what makes him happy even if you don't like it, because his pain is your pain; and vice versa, I might add."

"But if he really is the one, he's nearly a hundred years older than I am, we'll be lucky to have fifty years together."

"Every day will be a blessing," he assured her. "Your grandma was fifty years older than me but things like that cease to matter. Although I miss her terribly, I am thankful for the time that we did have."

"When did she die?" Rori asked. Her grandfather had been her favourite but she had been very fond of her grandmother too.

"Sixty six years ago," he said. "It might be painful without her but try as I might, I can't regret the time we had together." He looked around the room, as though he could still see her moving through it.

"Anyway, I don't think you'll have to worry too much about that," he said, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "I take it you are here for the prophecy?"

"How did you know?"

"There's a reason I showed you that book when you were young, because I thought it spoke about you." He got up from the table and went to the book shelves that lined one wall of the small room. "The others are boxed up in the attic," he said. "I only kept the important ones out."

Rori smiled, for there were easily a thousand books on those shelves alone. It truly put her former collection to shame.

"Ah, here it is," he said, pulling an old leather bound book from the shelf and bringing it back to the table. "This belongs to you now, as do the others."

"What?"

"These books have been passed down through the generations, starting with my great great grandmother. Sometimes the bookish gene skips a generation but it resurfaces eventually, and I could see that it had with you. I find reading quite difficult these days so it is time that they went to someone who can truly enjoy them."

"I can't take your books," she argued.

"You can and you will!" he assured her. "I'm two hundred and sixty eight, I will not be around for much longer and if you don't accept them as a gift now, they will come to you upon my death anyway."

Rori didn't know what to say. Indeed he was old by dwarf standards, but she liked the thought of him dying even less than the thought of taking his books from him.

"Don't talk like that."

"I have to, Rori, to deny the truth would be foolish and I am nobody's fool."

She had no idea how she could move so many books back to Erebor but she would try if that was what he wanted.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not as virile as I once was and all this excitement is making me tired."

"Of course," she leaned over the table and kissed his cheek. "Will you eat with us later?"

"Of course, child. Now leave an old man in peace for an hour or two and go find that man of yours."

She picked up the book and left.

As she wandered the streets she found that she didn't care that some people were staring at her. She had remembered what her grandfather used to tell her when she was young, and complained about being teased or picked on because of her light hair or her bookish nature.

"Rori, my dear, you are not different, you are unique! Revel in it, enjoy your individuality. You have risen above the herd and for that, some will always seek to pull you down but that speaks badly of them, not you. Those who truly matter to you will see your rare qualities as a gift and seek to nurture, not destroy them."

She had managed the teasing a lot better when her grandfather had been around, and now she found some of that old confidence returning.

She remembered where the king's chamber was from when she was a child and went there there now, to find Thorin and Thim deep in conversation.

Thim was telling Thorin about how life in the Blue Mountains was fairing and he listened with interest. Thim seemed like a good leader and his heart was in looking after the village and protecting it's people.

Thorin smiled at Rori as she came in but she was happy to let them finish their conversation. She asked a dwarf who was standing in the entrance if she could be taken to Thorin's rooms. The dwarf checked with Thorin (who obviously agreed) before showing her to Thorin's chambers.

She settled on the bed and opened the book. It was hand written and had no date, but some of the pages were so faded that she guessed it must be hundreds of years old. It was written mostly in primitive quendian, an ancient form of Elvish, which Rori wasn't fluent in but she could read enough to understand the meaning of most of the passages. She carefully browsed each page until she found the prophecy she wanted, about the dwarf king who was given second life.

The prophecy began by explaining that the Orcrist, Thorin's sword, was infused with elvish magic and that the Arkenstone was older than all mortal lifeforms and although its magic was harder to harness, it was more powerful than the Orcrist. The stone was found by the sword maker during the first age.

After receiving a vision, the sword had been forged with the stone in mind and it could be fitted into the hilt of the sword in order to harness it's power. The vision also directed the elf who forged the sword to travel to the Erebor and place the stone deep inside the mountain, to be found millennia later by the Dwarves.

It went on to say that the mountain of Erebor would face many dangers during the third age but the greatest of these would require a selfless leader who would forgo his place in heaven, for the chance to save his people. The Arkenstone would preserve his flesh in order that he could return to a mortal life.

Rori paused and her thoughts turned to Thorin as she realised that he hadn't been brought back to life by the sword and stone; rather he had given up his place in paradise and returned to live a second life in Middle Earth, so that he might protect his people. She had a new found respect for him; she wasn't at all certain that she could have left heaven to return to the harsh realities of mortal life.

She smiled to herself and turned back to the book.

At the turn of the third millennium of the third age, Sauron would seek the Arkenstone and the means to control it, the Orcrist, sending one of his followers...

At this point, the writing grew so faint that it would need careful examination and probably a magnifying glass to be sure of what what was written there. The text carried over onto the next page, which was legible.

...Dwarf with knowledge of the next life would be able to harness the power of the stone and only an _anuzuh_, a scholar, would be able to advise the king who had chosen a second life, that he could weaken the maia using the very sword and stone which it desired.

Of course she could be wrong. As I said, some of the writing though legible was very faded, and her ancient elvish needed some serious brushing up before she could translate the prophecy with any degree of confidence.

She re-read the paragraph which said when the attack would come, just to be certain that she had her timings right.

It was now 2942 in the third age so if she had read the prophecy correctly, they had perhaps 40 to 60 years before this danger came (prophecies were never particularly accurate on times and you had to allow a large margin for error). That should give her enough time to be certain. Well, as certain as you could ever be when dealing with prophecies.

III

That evening the town threw an impromptu celebration to celebrate the kings visit. This isn't as outlandish as you might think at first, for dwarves will use any excuse for a party.

The main hall was lined with tables, casks of ale were produced from somewhere and placed around the hall, fires were built that sows could be roasted over and loaves of bread were continually dropped off at the hall, many still warm from the oven.

Thorin's personal suite of rooms didn't take much preparation since before he had left to reclaim Erebor, he had ensured that everything was protected and covered in dust sheets. Nevertheless the rooms had been cleaned and scrubbed in preparation for him.

As Thorin made his way through the halls, it brought back a lot of memories for him. He had been happy here and under his rule, the dwarves thrived but still, his enjoyment of his kingdom had always been tarnished by the knowledge that he and his people weren't here by choice.

He regretted that now. Not the retaking of Erebor but the fact that he hadn't taken the time to enjoy what he had here. Those who had remained here seemed happy and he hoped that under Thim's rule, they could thrive once again.

He entered his chambers to find Rory dozing on the bed, a book open before her. He smiled as he approached her and gently lifted a strand of her blond hair off her face, placing a kiss on her newly exposed cheek.

She roused and smiled when she saw him.

"Hi," she said.

"Been working hard?" he asked.

Rori smiled at his teasing. "I must be getting old."

"If you are old, I must be ancient!"

"Not ancient. Antique maybe," she said, sitting up. "Or perhaps seasoned is a better word."

"Seasoned, am I?" he asked rhetorically as he closed the book and put it aside. "I'll show you seasoned!"

He climbed on to the bed and kissed her. Privacy had been a rare commodity on the last leg of their journey and he intended to make up for that now. His was sorely disappointed when Rori pulled away from a second kiss but he could tell from her expression that she had something serious on her mind. He rolled off and lay on his side next to her, his head resting on his hand.

Rori mimicked his position, though she seemed to be having trouble meeting his eye.

"I had a long chat with my grandfather this afternoon," she began.

"Oh?" he asked because her pause was becoming uncomfortable.

Rori took a deep breath and finally looked into his eyes.

"I'm ready," she said.

"Ready for what?" Thorin frowned, not grasping her meaning.

"To be your wife."

Thorin sighed. "I want you, Rori, really I do, but not like this."

"Like what?" she sounded shocked.

"Like a timid mouse giving in to my demands!" He got off his bed and began to pace.

"Thorin?" she got to her knees on the bed so that she could better talk to him.

"No, Rori, I gave you space and time, I haven't put any pressure on you, so for you to come here, hardly able to meet my eye and make me feel like the bad guy? I won't stand for it!"

"I didn't mean for-"

"If your grandfather has pressured you into this then that's his problem, not mine and I refuse to-"

"Will you shut up!" she finally yelled. "I'm sorry if I am nervous but I can't help it! If you must know, my grandfather helped me to see that we wouldn't be like my parents, he didn't put any pressure on me at all! I said that because it's what I want and if I do have some residual nervousness left, well I can't help it. I may love you but this is still a big step for me!" She paused and took some deep breaths. "So do you want to marry me or not?"

She could have asked more graciously but with her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, to Thorin she had never looked more beautiful.

"I do," he smiled, his anger long gone. "Is this what you want?"

"It is!" she still sounded angry which made Thorin's smile widen.

Thorin stepped up to the bed and put one hand either side of her face.

"Návaín, isimunme," he said tenderly, holding her gaze.

Her fiery glare softened and she smiled slightly.

"Khuloh..." she paused after she said his name and for one awful moment Thorin thought that she wouldn't go through with it. Then her smile widened. "Isimunme,"

Thorin's smile became a grin and he pulled her from the bed as he held her tightly.

"Oh, my love. I began to fear that this day would never come."

Rori was grinning too and held him just as tightly. Now that's she had said the words, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had been the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have-"

"Hush," he said, placing her back on the floor and looking down into her eyes. "What's past is past, now we must look to the future."

"Speaking of, Grandfather found the book."

"Not tonight," he said, kissing her quickly. "Tonight we celebrate. There is time enough tomorrow for reality to intrude."

Rori smiled. "I saw they were setting up for a party, when does it start?"

"Not for hours and hours," he said, sweeping Rori off her feet and into his arms.

"I take it you had something in mind to pass the time until then?" she asked as he laid her down on the bed.

"I had a few ideas."

III

The feast that evening was an even more riotous affair than usual, once the towns people discovered that their king had taken a wife.

Rory was the subject of many whispers and pointed fingers that evening but she was too happy to even notice, let alone care.

Her grandfather came with two of her uncles, one of their wives and four cousins. They shared the top table with Thorin and Rori.

She and Thorin danced, drank, ate, sang and laughed until by the end of the evening, it was all Rori could do to kiss her grandfather goodbye and stagger to bed with Thorin. As much as Thorin might have liked to ravage Rori again, he just wasn't up to it and so he pulled her to him, content just to sleep as long as she was at his side.

Thankfully neither of them had a hangover the next morning, their high spirits having had more to do with the events of the previous day than the amount of alcohol imbibed.

Breakfast was brought to their room and as they sat down to eat, Thorin was surprised to realise that Rori was clean shaven. She was among her own kind here and had reverted to wearing her dwarf clothing, since it was much more comfortable and familiar than the hobbit costume she had been wearing. He had simply assumed that she would let her beard grow, even if she would have to remove it again before the journey home. He smiled at her but didn't comment in case he made her self conscious.

While they ate, Rori explained what she had learned from the prophecy, although she was very careful to let him know how poor her ancient elvish was and that she needed more time to properly examine the text in case she had made any mistakes.

Thorin focused on the fact that the prophecy said that he had chosen to return to life. Ever since he had woken up in that chamber, he had been at a loss to explain what had happened or why and he did not like that feeling. Although he couldn't remember having made the choice, the idea that he'd had some control over his return made it seem less magical and mystifying and more acceptable.

"Although," he said to Rori. "Can one claim any ownership of a decision that they do not remember making?"

"I think so," she smiled. "Even normally, memories fade but we are still left living with the consequences of our choices, good or bad, whether we remember making those choices or not."

"Wise words," he said.

Rori told him that her Grandfather had given all his books too her and for a while they discussed the logistics of getting his collection back to Erebor. When the family had moved into the Blue Mountains, Rei had once told her that he had given a few books to everyone making the journey. He was well respected and well liked, so no one saw the harm in adding a book or two to their possessions.

This time there was no mass move and the books would be much harder to transport. They discussed whether to move them en masse with horses and wagons, which could lead to the loss of all the books should the party be attacked on route, or they could send a few bags or boxes at a time which would take longest to reach Erebor, possibly up to a year or even two before the collection was complete, and even if some books were lost in transit, the majority would hopefully be safe.

"Perhaps if I just chose the important ones, I could leave the rest," Rori mused.

"You would hardly make a good scholar with few books," Thorin pointed out, remembering the reference to 'his scholar' in the prophecy.

Rori smiled weakly, disliking being the cause any disruption.

"Why don't we go over to your grandfather's now and you can start sorting them. Once you know exactly what is there, it will be easier to decide how to handle the transfer."

"That will take days!" she said sheepishly.

"Did you think that as soon as we had the prophecy, I would want to turn tail and go home? We travelled for weeks to get here, I am enjoying the rest and comfort of a warm bed and regular meals as much as anything." he smiled. "Besides, Thrim has a lot of ideas for the community which I am interested in hearing. I may have left Thorin's Halls but it is still my domain, and I want to make sure it thrives, even though it is no longer our capital city."

Rori smiled, feeling better about the delay now that she knew that he wanted to stay for a while.

After breakfast they went to Ris's small home and knocked on the door. When no answer came after repeated knockings and a long wait, Rori opened the latch and let herself in. Dwarves do not usually lock any door, except perhaps the chest or room which houses their gold. Ris had little gold and so he had no door locks.

"Grandfather?" Rori called as they went in. "Grandpa? Are you here?"

The fire in the main room had died out and so they went through one of the two doors which lead off that room. Ris's bedroom was the first door they opened and they saw Ris lying in bed, though his colouring was far too light to be healthy.

"Grandpa?" Rori asked, her voice high pitched and hesitant.

Thorin ventured closer to the bed, one arm tucking Rori tightly into his side, for he feared the worst. He reached out and touched one hand to Ris's forehead, which was cold to the touch.

"I'm sorry," he said, which was all Rori needed to hear. She threw her arms around him and Thorin held her tightly as she cried.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

When Rori's tears dried up Thorin took her from the bedroom, closing the door behind them and he went out into the street. He stopped the first dwarf who passed him and asked him to fetch Thrim and then Ris's relatives.

The young dwarf ran off, his previous task forgotten as he hurried to do his king's bidding.

Thorin set about relighting the fire and boiling some water, while Rori sat down at the table.

The rest of the day pased in a blur as friends and relatives came by to pay their respects to Ris, and his relatives stayed and accepted their kind words. Rori felt like an interloper, as though she wasn't entitled to share their grief.

When she was left alone with her uncle Pel for a moment, he smiled encouragingly and took her hand.

"He was waiting for you, you know? We all think that's the only reason he lived this long and I guess this proves it."

"Don't say that!" she felt as though he was blaming her.

"It's true," he said. "Dad spent the last few decades worrying that he hadn't looked after you and your mother, and wondering what became of you. I think seeing you and the wonderful woman you had become, finally gave him the peace he needed to let go. This is a good thing, Rori. He's with Ma now, and that's all he's wanted for a very long time."

Rori smiled at his kind words, though her eyes were still shining with as yet unshed tears.

That evening the funeral was held by the entrance to Thorin's Halls. The funeral pyre was built high and Ris placed upon it. Dwarf royals are entombed upon their death and any dwarf who is rich enough can do the same, but most chose cremation.

Dwarf funerals are generally a cheerful event, or at least much more cheerful than we are used to. They are a celebration of the dwarfs life, rather than a mourning of his death and the memories of Ris flowed freely among those present. It seemed that almost everyone had a kind word to say about him and had fond memories to share.

If anyone needed to know something, it was Ris they went to and every week he held what you might call 'court' in the tavern, where he would tell his stories to anyone who was of a mind to listen.

Although her tears were never far away, it warmed Rori's heart to know that he had been so very loved and cared about.

As the torches were lit, everyone grew silent as the bearers approached the pyre. As king, Thorin raised his tankard high in the air.

"To Ris!" he called as the torch bearers set alight to the pyre.

The crowd copied his cry and raised their tankards, their way of wishing Ris well on journey to the afterlife.

Rori watched the flames and a small smile formed on her lips.

"Thank you, grandpa," she said softly, unlike the other cheers which were echoing around the valley. "I love you and I will miss you."

Thorin approached and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want to wait until the end?" he asked. Dwarf funerals usually only die down when the pyre begins to burn out, but Thorin knew from bitter experience that it was easier to celebrate the life of someone you that weren't close to, than that of someone you loved. Although Rori had not been close to her grandfather for many years, she did still have a great deal of affection for him and he knew that this must be hard for her.

Rori shookher head and so they went back to his rooms where they spent a quiet evening.

III

Over the next few days Thorin went about the town with Thim, finding out what needed doing and what projects had been or were being put into effect. He offered what help he could, though the whole the town was doing very well, considering that so many of it's residents had left.

Rori spent the time mostly in her grandfathers house, sorting and packing up the books. Her relatives were there too, packing up the rest of his possessions. She felt guilty taking something he had valued so highly away from his family but although she offered his relatives their pick of the books, only one cousin took her up on the offer, taking one story book which her grandfather used to read to her when she was young.

Most of the others wondered aloud what they would do with a book, other than use it to fix a wonky table!

Ris did have a few possessions of worth, which he bequeathed to his relatives in what we would call a will but in reality was no more than a letter, which wasn't even witnessed. Rori wasn't left anything that might be called precious by most dwarves standards but she was happy to forgo gold and silver for the books, which were priceless to her.

Now that Ris had passed on, Rori's single uncle, Pel, and two of her cousins, Ras and Mori, were to journey back to the Lonley Mountain with them. The rest of her family preferred to stay in the Blue Mountains.

Between the five of them, they could carry the most important of Rori's books. She and Thorin had decided that the rest would travel with messengers who transported taxes to Erebor from the Blue Mountains. Dwarf taxes aren't high but like death, they are inescapable. In all fairness to Thorin though, he had lowered the taxes for the town until the community was more recovered, and had even offered funds to help improve some of the town infrastructure, which was starting to fall into disrepair with there not being enough dwarves or money around to properly maintain it.

He also approved Thim's idea to lower a families taxes for every child that they had. Thanks to there being more males than females born (and perhaps the dwarves keenness to throw themselves into battle) it was hard to keep population numbers up. By offering an incentive to parents to have large families Thorin's Halls might well be back to their former glory in another hundred years or so.

Three weeks after they had arrived, well rested and ready to face the arduous journey again, they set off for home, or their new home in the case of Rori's relatives.

The passage out of the mountains was not much fun; autumn was biting now and it would be winter before they reached the Lonely Mountain, so although the first part of their journey offered some places to stay, they opted to press on for as long as possible each day, in the hopes of getting to Erebor a little sooner.

They were taking a different way home, to the north of the shire. It was shorter but there was little in the way of civilisation for most of the journey. The days were growing shorter now so they rode on in the dark until they grew tired, they then camped each night, building fires around which they sang or listened to Rori's stories until it was time to sleep.

By the end of the second week though, Rori was beginning to tire of travelling for close to eighteen hours a day. She and Thorin hardly had any time alone together and what little they did get, they used to sleep.

Soon everyone was feeling the same way. They passed through the Hills of Evendim and as they approached what was once Angman, Thorin took the decision that they would camp here for a while. They were all tired, their food supplies were running short and the ponies needed a rest.

They erected their tents in a larger circle than usual to give them more privacy and in the middle, Rori and her cousin Mori built a fireplace using rocks, which would protect the base of the fire from wind. They also collected some boulders and tree stumps which could serve as seating around the fire.

That first day the males, Thorin, Pel and Ras collected and chopped firewood until they had a pile large enough to last at lease a week.

With their immediate needs taken care of for a while, the next day they set about hunting. Two dwarves remained in camp while the other three ventured out in search of food. They hunted with bows and arrows which wasn't Rori's strong point, so she opted to remain in camp. Ras also wasn't great with an arrow, so he usually stayed with her. They foraged close to the camp for vegetables and berries and since this land had once been inhabited, they were luckier than they expected, finding a patch of blackberry bushes on the first day. They found some root vegetables but really very few. They still had dried foods such as oatcakes and biscuits in their supplies, so if they could just catch a deer or maybe two, then they should have enough for the rest of the journey.

On the third day of hunting they caught their first boar. They feasted that night, since it had been so long since they had any 'real' food, and opened the last of their ale in celebration.

The following day, Rori and Ras set about smoking the rest of the meat to preserve it, and drying some of it so that it would last even longer.

They ate well for the two weeks that they camped and they smoked, cured and preserved any meat that they didn't get around to eating for the final leg of the journey. This was the part that Thorin was looking forward to the least. There was a pass through the mountains, where the Misty Mountains met Mount Gundabad and the Grey Mountains, however while easier to travel, it was far from safe, since Mount Gundabad was an Orc stronghold.

The Orc numbers would have been depleted following the battle of five armies but Thorin felt certain that they would not make it through the pass unhindered. He supposed the danger was for perhaps a hundred miles, fifty miles either side of Mount Gundabad but ponies, even fit and well trained ones like they rode, could not cover 100 miles in a day. They could perhaps manage a trot or a slow canter for fifty (though that was pushing it) but that would mean camping twice within twenty five miles of what was essentially, the Orc's capital city.

It rankled Thorin even further that Mount Gundabad was the birthplace of Durin and thus a sacred place to Dawrves. Once it had once been a Dwarf stronghold and to know that orcs now occupied that hallowed ground infuriated him, but he knew that he couldn't let personal desires or vendettas get in the way. A part of him would have loved to charge into Gundabad and seen how much destruction he could cause before he was killed, and perhaps a few months ago he would have been tempted but now? More than having a wife, he knew that he had a destiny and that his blood lust needed to be reigned in. Somehow he doubted that if he died again, he would be given a third chance at life.

When the two weeks were up they packed up the camp, leaving behind anything that wasn't essential (which made Rori feel awful about her books having to be taken) and began the trek to the mountains. All the dwarves felt happier after their rest, but knowing what lay ahead kept their mood sombre.

The pass between the Misty Mountains and Mount Gundabad wasn't completely flat, more's the pity, but it was much easier than travelling through the mountains. As the Misty Mountains began to loom on the skyline, conversation dwindled to almost mothing, though they were still quite some distance off. It began to rain then, not particularly hard but with a strong wind as well, the raindrops blew straight at them, making for a miserable journey.

Rori finally abandoned her hobbit outfit in favour of her dwarf clothes. Made of leather and fur, they were much more practical in bad weather.

They camped about one day away from the pass and Thorin laid down the law for the next few days. The next day there would be no talking, communication was through hand signals only. Thorin would ride point while Pel, who had proven himself while hunting, would bring up the rear. They would travel along the southern border of the pass until they became too tired.

They would not camp but take care of the ponies and sleep on the ground, taking it in turns to stand guard. The following day they would be passing Mount Gundabad at a steady canter or trot, travelling as far in that day as they could. Again, they would not camp but would sleep on the ground, rising at first light and putting as much distance between them and the mountain as possible.

It was still possible that they would encounter orcs in the pass between the Misty Mountains and the Grey Mountains, but the danger would be reduced by then.

The rain and wind kept up which reduced their visibility but they passed the first night unhindered. No one slept very easily knowing that they were close to an Orc stronghold. As soon as dawn broke over the mountains, they saddled up and rode out once again. The next day they travelled as fast as they dared without harming the ponies but they did not cover as much ground as Thorin would have liked. Nevertheless, it was safest to travel during daylight and so they stopped at nightfall, fed the horses and waited for daylight again.

On the third day the rain let up and Thorin had begun to hope that they might be out of danger, when he spotted movement to his left, on top if one of the larger hills. He signalled to those behind him and they took off at a gallop, only to come to an abrupt halt when the pass split to go either side around a large hill, but the route that they were planning to take had been blocked by a rock slide.

"What do we do?" Mori asked.

"It's a trap," Thorin realised. "We have only one way to go and there will almost certainly be an ambush waiting for us." He felt so foolish to think that they had almost escaped danger, when they had probably been seen the moment they entered the pass, since this trap clearly wasn't quick to set up.

Being six foot high or more in places, the rock slide was far too big for the ponies to jump but it would also take too long to clear.

"We will have to make a passage," Rori said.

"The Orcs will realise we aren't taking the other path and come after us before long," Thorin reasoned.

"Then better that they meet us on our terms than theirs."

Thorin nodded his agreement.

"Mori, Ras and Pel, start digging a path out. Rori, you watch for signs or sounds of danger.

Rori nodded and while the others dismounted and began to clear a path in the rocks, she turned her pony around and watched for signs of someone approaching. It was indeed an arduous and time consuming task to shifting the rocks. As they cleared them, Thorin noticed that moss was growing on the underside of some rocks and realised that perhaps this trap hadn't been set for them, but for anyone who passed this way. He climbed to the top of the pile and began to hurl rocks and boulders off the passage that they were creating.

"Anything?" Thorin asked after half an hour.

"Not yet," Rori answered. She was beginning to wonder if the Orcs would ever come.

That idea soon proved incorrect when she heard the barking of wargs in the distance.

"Something's coming," Rori warned.

Pel and Thorin left Mori and Ras to move the rocks and climbed back onto their ponies. Rori gathered up the reins of the remaining ponies so that they could stay out of the way of any fracas, then headed to the rocks. Mori was a good fighter and if Rori took her place on the rockfall, she could help Thorin and Pel.

Though she only had one hand free as the other held the ponies reins, Rori helped to clear a passage as best she could while Mori joined the others.

Finally the Orcs appeared around the bend and to everyone's relief, it appeared to be only six Orcs riding Wargs. Most of them had been half expecting an army.

Thorin, Pel and Mori leaped into action, swords glinting in the sunlight as they swung them at the Orcs and their mounts. Unfortunately Wargs are vicious creatures and so it was like fighting two attackers at a time rather than one, as the massive jaws of the Wargs snapped at the ponies and riders with every pass.

Thorin and Mori quickly dispatched two riders though their mounts carried on the fight. As an Orc-Warg pair ran at Thorin he had an idea. He leaned over to the side of his horse as far as he dared and brought his sword up as he passed, cleaving both mount and rider in two.

Mori had seen what he'd done and emulated the move herself. Although it didn't work on the first try, on her second attempt she managing to kill the warg.

Pel had quickly been dismounted, his pony lay on the ground for a few moments with an ugly looking cut on it's flank, until it was finally terrorised enough to get to it's feet and gallop off. Pel was fending off an orc who had dismounted, and the warg that it had been riding. He hardly had time to block one blow before the next was bearing down on him. He did his best though, wounding the warg to the point where it backed away slightly so he only had the orc to worry about.

Hopeful that this was all the attackers who were coming for a while. Rori tied the pony reins she held to a heavy looking boulder, then she and Ras joined in the fray. Rori was a good fighter by normal standards but only fair by dwarf standards but she held her own, preferring to attack those who were already attacking someone else and therefore distracted. She quickly dispatched a warg but the orc she approached, who was attacking Pel, turned to face her as she got near. She defended herself and as Pel swung at the orc, it once again turned away from her and she impaled her sword in it's side.

Mori had dispatched another orc but had fallen from her pony and lay on the ground. Thorin was just finishing the final orc when he noticed two wargs approaching the fallen Mori. Thorin put his fingers in his mouth and issued a high pitched whistle. Both wargs turned to the noise and between them, Mori and Ras finished them off.

Thorin continued fighting his orc until it swung it's axe at him and sent him crashing to the floor. Rori had seen the blow coming and started to make her way over but she wasn't fast enough. The Orc knew a brief moment of pure terror as he herd Rori's passionate cry and seconds later she ran it though with her sword and pulled the blade upwards, eviscerating it. Looking surprised, the orc slowly slipped off her blade and onto the ground.

Rori knelt beside Thorin.

"Are you okay?" she asked, searching his chest for the wound. He was wearing chainmail which had absorbed most of the blow but it had eventually buckled, leaving Thorin with a very nasty and deep looking cut in his side.

"Just a scratch," he said, getting to his feet though it took all his effort. "Keep clearing the path, we don't know when they might come back," he told her.

Rori did as she was told but noticed that Mori was also injured. It took all her willpower not to try and tend to her and Thorin, but she knew that they were sitting ducks while trapped in a bottle neck like this.

Rori, Pel and Ras resumed moving the rocks while Thorin helped Mori onto her pony, then climbed onto his own, though it was an arduous task.

Finally they got the rubble down to about two feet tall by perhaps four foot wide.

"We can jump that," Thorin said, eager to get further away before the more orcs arrived. Rori agreed with him and so everyone mounted again. Since Pel's pony had run away, Thorin offered him a ride as his pony was the largest of all of them.

Each rider was leading a pack pony and they took a long run up to the rocks, so that their second pony would have time to anticipate it. They all cleared it, though some not by much. They carried on as quickly as they dared, until Rori finally insisted that they stop so that she could check Thorin and Mori's wounds.

Pel took the opportunity to distribute his pack pony's belongings around the remaining pack ponies so that he might use him as a mount.

Thorin's wound was deep, it had sliced clean through the muscle but by some miracle he hadn't damaged any important veins or organs. Rori wiped the wound with yellow liquid, then sprinkled some willow powder over it to help numb the pain while she stitched it closed. She wasn't much good at sewing but she thought that she did a decent job.

Mori's wound was short but deep; she had been stabbed with something, probably a dagger. Unfortunately Rori had no idea how long or short that knife might be. Judging by Mori's healthy complexion though, she probably wasn't losing too much blood. Rori cleaned, padded and wrapped the wound as quickly as she could, then they continued on their way, travelling as fast as they dared and staying hyper vigilant for any signs of movement.

They could not maintain their pace indefinitely though, so they slowed to a walk and discussed tactics.

"We need to rest," Ras argued. "The horses need feeding and-"

"Rest is more dangerous than missing a meal," Thorin argued. "I say we go through the night, taking half hour rests when the horses need them. We'll go as far as we can, then hopefully find somewhere to camp."

"What if they come after us?" Pel asked.

"I don't think they will." Rori answered, having spotted the same moss on the rocks that Thorin had. "That roadblock had been in place for quite some time, it wasn't specifically for us. If any orcs survived, they would have had to travel easily thirty or more miles to Mount Gundabad, then the same back, plus what further distance we've manage to put between us."

"Except that we saw movement in the hills before we reached the road block," Thorin said.

"I agree with Thorin," Mori said. "We should keep moving."

"I agree also," Pel said. He was worried for his niece, Mori, but if she said she was all right to keep moving, then he would believe her.

Outnumbered, Ras gave up his fight and they travelled all through the night and into the next day, taking half hour rest breaks when they needed them. Three dwarves napped while the other two took care of the horses and kept watch.

Finally as evening fell again, they were all growing too weary to continue and everyone kept their eyes open for a good stopping place. Suddenly Thorin frowned an turned his pony away from the path they had been walking and followed an old path up a hill. The others followed and although it was dark and the path was overgrown and mossy in places, they made it to the top unharmed.

At the top they saw that the hill had been hollowed out.

"This is an old outpost," Thorin said. "Built after the Orcs of Angmar first over ran Mount Gundabad. It was an early warning system in case they also tried to march on Erebor. It's been abandoned for hundreds of years but my sister and I played here when we were young. I had forgotten all about it until I saw it again."

They would be safe to rest here they decided. Under the hill, chambers had been carved for the guards to sleep in between watches and they headed down there now. They unsaddled the ponies, fed and watered them, then Rori checked Thorin and Mori's wounds. The escape didn't seem to have done Mori's stab wound much harm but Thorin had ripped out two stitches, which Rori redid then applied a new dressings.

It was cold this time of year and they all would have liked a fire but the smoke would give them away. After a little exploring, Ras discovered a chest of furs which had been left here, along with some ale, both of which served to take some of the chill off.

Rori and Thorin offered to take the first watch on top of the hill while the others prepared dinner and rested.

Both Rori and Thorin were exhausted but knew that they couldn't afford to let their vigilance slip yet. They sat in one of the bunkers, out of the wind and cold night air, and watched the path below through a small hole that had been carved into the side of the hill.

"What will we do if they come after us?" Rori asked.

"This place is well hidden," he said. "Designed to be unnoticeable to the untrained eye. If they catch us up, I suggest we stay here and wait until they give up and return home. If they do not catch us up, I suggest we move out again once we have all caught up on our rest."

"I think the ponies will need two days to recover, we have ridden them incredibly hard."

Thorin nodded. He may not like it but he knew well enough that their mounts had to be respected. There was no point riding a horse that was uncared for and so was slow or unhealthy. If they didn't give the ponies a rest now and continued at the same pace, they could collapsed from hunger or exhaustion, which would do nobody any good.

Dwarves were considered callous by many races but in reality, they have an awful lot of respect. Respect for the the ground from which they mine precious metals, respect for the animals that serve them and adorn their dinner plates, respect for each other and their culture and even respect for their enemies. Dwarves were warriors but that did not mean that they were cruel. Selfish and greedy at times perhaps, but not callous.

No Dwarf had ever been ordered to war, they volunteered as they believed it was their duty to fight for what they believed in. No dwarf ever prolonged the death of another or took pleasure in causing pain. No, the honour of battle was in a good, clean kill and defeat of the opposition.

Thorin and Rori sat in silence for most of the night, watching and waiting, but nothing used the path at the base of the hill. As morning approached, it began to rain again, which would help to hide their scent should the orcs also bring more wargs.

Finally as dawn broke, Pel and Ras took over from Thorin and Rori, who were having a hard time keeping their eyes open. They collapsed onto the first bed they found, stopping only for long enough to roll the furs out over the lumpy mattress.

As Twilight approached. Ras ran down to the lower chambers and using hand signals, conveyed the news that a party of around fifty orcs and wargs was passing.

Everyone stayed exactly where they were for fear that any noise might alert them to the dwarves presence in the hill. In the event they passed without incident and now it was a waiting game until they gave up and returned this way.

"We could go after them," Pel argued. "Now that we know how many is in their party, we can ambush them!"

"We are badly outnumbered," Thorin sighed. "As much as I like your idea, odds of a hundred to five aren't ones I will be accepting."

Pel could see the logic but he was also itching for some payback for what the orcs had taken from their kind. Nevertheless, he knew Thorin spoke the truth and he obeyed his king.

The dwarves ate, slept, washed and Rori tended to Thorin and Mori's wounds as best she could. Thankfully they seemed to be healing nicely, though any trauma could still reopen them.

During their escape, Rori had been unable to shave but as soon as she had slept then tended to Mori and Thorin, she took the opportunity. She was surprised to feel the need, since her beard had grown past the itching stage and was causing her no discomfort. She questioned the impulse for a while, until she decided that being different was perhaps not such a bad thing. In fact she was rather getting used to standing out and found that her confidence was growing with each passing day.

Happy with that answer, she returned to Thorin once she was done. He was under strict instructions not to move from his bed unless he absolutely had to and he had dozed off in her absence. Rori curled into his side, rubbing her cheek against his furs; they felt so soft against her cheek.

When Thorin awoke he didn't say anything when he noticed that she had shaved; he simply smiled that content smile, the one that said she couldn't have made him any happier if she had tried, then he engaged in an activity that was most certainly against doctors orders, though his doctor didn't have the will to stop him.

It took six days before the orcs and wargs passed by the hill again, this time much slower and looking disgruntled. Pel was the one on watch as they passed this time, and his hand itched to get his bow and fire off an arrow but he resisted. The party passed at around midnight, meaning that the next day they could continue on their way home.

Thorin warned that they still needed to be on their guard. Hopefully the orcs believed that they had lost the dwarves but since they did not have an exact headcount, some might not have journeyed back with the others and could be lying in wait for them. There was no way to be sure and so they were extra vigilant, leaving one dwarf always on watch while the others slept.

The days in hiding had given both horses and dwarves a well needed rest and they began this final leg of the trip with new found vigour, anxious to get home, or to their new home.

They made good time, skirting the forest of Mirkwood and arrived back at the Lonley Mountain around noon. Thorin stopped his pony while they were still some distance from the mountain and the others paused beside him.

"Our new home," Mori said softly.

"Aye," Pel agreed, smiling at the sight of it. "I do hope someone is looking for an engraver."

"And a goldsmith," Mori added.

"You two will be fine," Ras said. "But I doubt there'll be much demand for a candle maker, what with men being so close to trade with."

"All trades are in demand," Rori assured them. "Trade with Dale, Lake-town and even the elves of Mirkwood is booming and living in the mountain, dwarves have much more need of candles than men or elves do."

"I'm certain that you will all find your niches," Thorin said. "And it just so happens that I will soon have to have two gold rings made and engraved."

Ras harrumphed.

"And of course," Thorin added. "The banquet in the main hall will need a hundred or more candles to light it."

Rori smiled at his tolerance towards her family, for she doubted that he was always so accommodating.

They continued on their way and were spotted quite some distance away by the lookouts who guarded the mountain and a procession was sent out to meet them. By the time they made it to the road that lead up to the mountain's entrance, the path was once again thronged with people.

Rori smiled, pleased to be home again and this time she didn't feel any need to bow her head in shame. She spotted her mother near the base of the mountain but thankfully her father was no where to be seen. Rori smiled at her and stopped her pony.

"I've got so much to tell you," Rori said, holding her arm out to her mother and and helping her up onto the pony. Together they rode up the path and into the mountain.

The great hall was already well on it's way to being ready for a feast and as soon as Thorin dismounted, he was thronged with well-wishers; they all were.

Rori smiled as she was assaulted with questions about their quest; how had the journey been, did they face any danger, did they succeed (most didn't know the point of the quest), how were the Blue Mountain's fairing, had they seen this relative or that relative. The questions kept coming, spoken over each other and piling on top of each other. She was separated from her mother and though she looked for her, she was too short to see over the heads of the other dwarves around her.

She answered as many questions as she could and she could see that her relatives were answering many of the same questions. She began to think that she would never be free of the crowds that surrounded her when suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist as Thorin pulled her to his side.

"Enough!" Thorin called, silencing the crowd immediately. "I apologise, there will be time for this later but right now, my wife and I need some time alone."

That statement stunned the crowd for a moment and only as Thorin was carrying her out of the hall did the chatter start up again, quickly swelling in volume as the news spread throughout the hall. Thankfully Bifur and Dori were guarding the passageway to the kings quarters, stopping anyone from following them.

Thorin kicked their door closed behind them but didn't put Rori down until he had reached the bed.

"My, someone's feeling dominant," she giggled.

Thorin was pleased to see this his rooms had been prepared for his return, a fire lit and candles placed around the room.

"We have had no real privacy for weeks," he said, his gaze smouldering. "I am desperate, not dominant."

"I still haven't told my mother," she said, though she had no intention of stopping him.

"She is being taken care of," he assured her. "She is joining us in a few hours so that you can talk to her privately."

"A few hours?" Rori raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"You're right," he agreed. "I will put your mother off until tomorrow." He made to move towards the door but Rori grabbed his hand.

"Don't you dare!" she laughed. "You're not the only desperate one." She grabbed the lapel's of his coat and pulled him down on top of her.

Thorin kissed her then pulled away slightly to gaze down at her.

"Oh, my love," he said. "As tempting as you are, I'm afraid there is one thing more tempting right now."

"Oh?" She didn't believe him. She didn't think that wild wargs could keep him away from her right now. "Do enlighten me."

"It involves you, some hot water and a very spacious bath."

"Just when I think you couldn't possibly be any more tempting, you make a suggestion like that." Rori grinned.

She quickly prepared the bath, complete with very feminine smelling bubbles, and they both climbed in. Being warm and clean were things that neither of them would be taking for granted any time soon.

Rori cleaned Thorin first, lathering up her hands rather than the sponge and doing her best to work the tension out of his muscles as she bathed him. She unpicked his braids and washed his hair, digging her fingers deep into his scalp until he moaned with pleasure. Then she washed his beard, working her way from the the bottom up to his chin.

When she was finished, Thorin then returned the favour, cleaning every inch of her and then washing her hair, taking the same care to work the tension from her tired muscles. When he had finished, he pulled her towards him but she struggled out of his grip. He frowned and watched as she moved to the far end of the bath and leaned over the edge. A few seconds later she pressed something into his palm and he looked down to see her razor.

He looked up into her eyes and saw that she was smiling.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"I want to look my best for tonight," she said simply, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the side of the tub.

Thorin shaved her stubble carefully and reverently, trying to show her with his actions just how special she was to him. Finally he was done and she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck.

When they came together in the warm water, it was all the sweeter for the waiting and though they both tried not to rush things, their need made it unavoidable the first time.

The both knew that soon they would have to face the people and deal with their relationship becoming public property but for the next hour at least, they enjoyed the peace and solitude of their bathroom where, unbound by decorum or duty, they were free to be themselves and enjoy each other.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **I am SO sorry for the delay in getting back to this. One of my books got to 2 on Amazon's regency romance chart on Thursday and the last few days have been been a haze of disbelief, shock and a fair amount of squeeing. I apologise for forgetting about this and my loyal readers, and I hope you enjoy this instalment. I faithfully promise to post the final chapter tomorrow. Cat -xxx- **  
**

**Chapter Eight**

That afternoon, while Rori ate a late lunch with her mother, Rei, and Thorin met with Dain, gift after gift arrived for the royal couple in celebration of their marriage and were duly stored for them to look over later on.

Rori wanted to know where her father was, since it would be very unlike him not to try and spoil things for her.

"He is in jail," Rai said, hanging her head. "He has been drinking a lot and picking fights. This is his seventh time in jail since you left."

Dwarves don't really have a penal system, they prefer fines or for very serious crimes, banishment but they do have a few rooms where miscreants can be housed while they sleep off the drink, or be kept for just a few days until the king (or since he had been gone, Dain) has time to decide on the penalty.

"Dain does not want to banish him but we have no money left to pay fines. He is being kept in jail for 2 weeks as punishment but Dain has warned him that if he should do it again, he will consider banishment."

Rei looked pained but not unduly so.

"Ma, you have to leave him."

"I can't," Rei said.

"Yes you can. Ma, I have power now, I am safe and I can keep you safe, you don't need to stay with him any more."

"It's not as simple as that."

"I think it is," Rori argued.

Her mother was quiet for a while so Rori pressed her point home.

"I saw grandpa just before he died," she told her mother. "I know there is nothing stopping you from leaving him, you don't love him.

"But the shame-"

"It is more shameful to be his whipping boy, mother! I know that you have let him cow you for a hundred years and it must be hard to stand up for yourself but if you do not, I will! I have a position of authority now, Mother, and I can't allow a petty, vengeful man like him have any hold over me and as long as you are with him, he will have power over me."

Tears began to prick Rori's eyes as she remembered all that her mother, all that both of them, had endured at his hands over the years.

"Please, for my sake, reclaim your life."

"And if I don't?" Rei asked.

"I have been thinking about that a lot recently. I cannot banish you from dwarf society, mother, for you have done nothing wrong, but I will send you to the farthest reaches of our kingdom where any threats he makes will be unlikely to reach my ears." Rori's tears spilled over. "Please don't make me do that to you."

Rei had spent so long doing as she was told that she hardly knew how to make her own mind up any longer, but for once she could see that the person giving her an ultimatum had her best interests at heart and she felt tears pricking her own eyes. Still, it was hard for her to make a choice and even harder to take ownership of that choice.

"You are my queen now," Rei said with a hesitant smile. "Which I suppose means that I have to do as you say."

Rori smiled. Maybe this time Rei didn't have to decide for herself; Erebor wasn't built in a day, after all. But some time spent living alone, making small decisions each day, would hopefully rebuild her shattered confidence and maybe one day she would be the strong woman that Rori knew she could be. No one could endure what she had and not be strong. At the very least, she did not have to be in anyone's power any longer and that was a start.

"Okay, Ma. Thorin and I will decide what to do with Father but you are not to return to his home until we have, all right?"

Rei nodded and patted her daughter's hand, thinking that Rori was a good girl, she always had been.

Rooms were made up for her mother and she went home to collect what she would need for a while. Rori took the opportunity to rest, knowing that tonight would probably be a late night. She was awoken from her nap by Thorin kissing her naked cheek as he sat down beside her on the bed.

"Mm," she moaned as she stretched and opened her eyes. "Hey," she smiled up at him. "How did your meeting go?"

"Well," Thorin assured her. "Dain has done a good job in my absence and though I think our marriage is difficult for him since we might produce heirs, he is handling it well. When things have calmed down around here I may offer him a territory of his own, he has earned it."

"I think that would be a very nice gesture," she smiled.

"Good. Now you have to get ready for this evening," he said, getting up and opening the door.

A seemingly endless procession of dwarves entered bearing clothes, jewels, furs, cabinets and all sorts of other lovely things. Rori was struck dumb by the procession, wondering what it was all for.

Thorin picked up a gown in emerald green which he thought would match her eyes, and held it up for her to see.

"What is all this?" she asked.

"Gifts for you, my love."

"For me?"

"Yes. Try this dress on," he said, handing the dress to her.

"But who are they from?"

"Merchants and the like."

"But..." she looked around the gifts which all looked expensive. "I can't take all this!"

"Why not?" he asked, sounding confused.

"Well, because I don't need it for a start, and because I pay my own way."

"I know you do, darling, but it is tradition for craftsmen to bestow a gift on their queen."

"The dwarves in the blue mountains didn't!" she argued.

"Because that community is struggling and I specifically asked Thim not to. Our community is thriving and the craftsmen want to do this for you. To refuse would be impolite."

"But it's too much," she said. "They can't afford to give all this up?"

"Of course they can. It is good business practice really, for if you use or wear anything that they have given you, it will reflect well on them and their sales will increase."

Rori bit her lower lip and Thorin came up to her, putting the dress over one arm so that he could rest his hands on her shoulders.

"You are my Queen now and you must get used to the adulation of our people."

If anything, Rori's eyes grew wider with fright. Thorin didn't say anything more, she knew what she had signed up for, she just needed time to adjust and if he knew her at all, and he thought that by now he did, she would soon find her way.

"Can't I become a tyrant and make them all hate me?" she said with a small smile.

Thorin gave a hearty laugh.

"My dear, you can certainly try but I sincerely doubt that anyone will believe it of you. I will get the blame and then the people will turn against me and we will have a revolution on our hands! It will not do."

"Well, that's a little drastic," Rori laughed. "But I suppose if wearing that dress will stop a revolution, then I have a duty to do so."

"Indeed," he grinned and handed her the dress. As she headed to the bed to lay it out, he picked up a bottle of perfume. "And try this," he said, throwing it to her.

You or I would probably not have caught the bottle but Rori had a dwarf's reflexes and saved the bottle from shattering. She laughed and sniffed the contents. We would probably not like the scent but it smelled like heaven to Rori's dwarf nose.

"You, sir, have very good taste," she agreed.

"Well," Thorin shrugged, "I chose you, didn't I?"

III

The banquet that evening a noisy affair with everyone pleased not only that their king was safe, but that he had finally chosen a mate. Most would have bet good money that he would never choose a wife at his age. Still, he had come back from the dead, so maybe that experience had given him the kick up the back side that he had needed, many suggested to one another.

Rori danced with many people that evening, most she knew as they had been her friends but some, the wealthier dwarves, she was unfamiliar with. Still, Rori was always happy to make a new friend.

People congratulated her, asked her how it had happened, wondered what her secret was, as though she had brewed a potion or some such to win his heart! Rori didn't mind their questions because she could see that everyone seemed happy for her.

She was dancing with Ori when the current song finished and she turned to find Mir, her spurned suitor, standing behind her!

"May I have this dance?" he asked, taking her in his arms before she could refuse. The music began again and she moved with him, more out of habit since she felt wrong footed.

"You obviously had your eyes on a bigger prize," he said, holding her to him just a little too tightly. "I didn't think that you were a gold digger but I can see now that you are just as shallow as the rest of your sex. Still, I see that Thorin still makes you shave, so perhaps he is also aware of just what a useless waste of space you are and he is already regretting his decision."

Rori hadn't even thought about her lack of beard this evening until he mentioned it but he had pressed the wrong button. He had been expecting the meek and helpful girl that he remembered, but that girl had grown up a lot since she'd left the mountain. She'd discovered her own self worth and had no need to rely on the opinions of others to bolster herself self esteem.

She stopped dancing and looked him straight in the eyes.

"You are nothing but a small, petty man who wanted a pretty wife to adorn your arm. You knew that despite your wealth, you are such a nasty little, thieving piece of work, that no woman would willing be your wife and so you tried to buy one instead." She shook her head sadly. "You're nothing but a thief and a con man and your opinions mean less than nothing to me."

Mir's faux-friendly expression was growing harder as she spoke and he gripped her tighter, almost to the point of pain.

"Let me go," she ordered.

Thorin had spotted the altercation and he, along with two of his best guards, were now making their way towards Rori.

"Last chance," she told Mir.

"Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!" he said, and all about them who had heard him stopped dancing and stared, shocked that such an insult had been aimed at their queen.

Rori's eyes took on a hard glint. Anyone who had seen her rush the orc that hurt Thorin would have recognised that look but sadly, the only person to get a good look at it, namely the orc, was no longer around to warn Mir of what it might mean.

Her knee went into his crotch with as much force as she could muster, as he bent forward she pulled herself from his grip (which had slackened considerably) and brought her clenched fists down upon his back, just below his neck. He fell to the floor and one final kick to his forehead knocked him out cold.

By this time the whole hall had fallen silent but slowly they began to cheer, clapping, waving and whooping, for they did so like a queen who could fight!

Thorin reached Rori and after checking that's she was all right, he picked her up and placed her on his shoulder, so that the whole hall could see her and how proud he was of her.

Rori was still only an average fighter, but then so was Mir, plus he was drunk which Rori wasn't and she also had the benefit of anger on her side. Still, no matter what happened in the future, her reputation as a good fighter and a strong dwarf was cemented forever more in dwarf legend. Retelling of their encounter with the orcs would be embellished until in some tellings Rori would be practically defending the whole party single handily!

Still, for tonight she was just slightly more loved than before and as Thorin weaved through the crowd with her still on his shoulder, she laughed and enjoyed the moment, for whoever would have guessed that she would be hailed as a fighter!

III

Although it was accepted that Thorin and Rori were married, it was traditional for royalty to have a public ceremony. Really it was just another excuse for a party, since the binding ritual simply consisted of them both reciting two words. This time though, non dwarves would be present, dignitaries and emissaries of the other races and towns who lived locally, and as such they would have to use their mannish names and the westron language, rather than dwarvish.

Rori didn't mind. Personally she wished they could skip the ceremony and go straight to the party afterwards for she didn't like being the centre of attention, although she was gradually getting used to it.

Most days Rori spent alone working on the translation, though she was careful to leave her room and join the others for lunch, since being alone all day made her dreadfully dull. Each evening Thorin came home with tales of happenings in the town and she had nothing at all to discuss with him if she did not venture out from her rooms occasionally.

Well, okay she could discuss the finer points of ancient elvish, and indeed she had on occasion, but it was a dreadfully dull topic to discuss at length.

Once this public ceremony was over, she would be expected to take on more responsibility, which she was looking forward to, even if it would take her away from her precious books for a while.

First, she would be required to hold court with Thorin should any visitors come to the mountain, which she was very much looking forward to. Next she would have to be present at any council meetings, both those that were open to the public and those that were closed. Finally Rori was to be present at any trials or sentencing for bad or criminal behaviour.

The thinking behind this was that once a dwarf had found his mate, he was incomplete without her and so she must be present at any event that required a discussion and/or a decision to be made.

She was nervous about those duties but Thorin kept reminding her of her reading, and that the knowledge she possessed would help her to venture an opinion on almost any topic, and that those opinions would be very helpful to his people. Indeed he usually sought her council, even although she had not taken up her public duties yet, discussing various issues with her over dinner or as they lay in bed in the evenings.

She wouldn't have a vote since she and Thorin were deemed to be one now, but her voice must always be heard and considered before any decisions were taken.

The ceremony was quite a grand affair and slightly more sedate than normal dwarf gatherings. The great hall was laid out with large tables and in honour of the visitors, each table had a white cloth and each place had it's own setting (dwarves usually brought their own cutlery and plates to gatherings, since it made the clean up easier). The more important dwarves and visitors were seated closest to the throne and the lesser ones to the back.

The throne that had for so long sat alone in the hall, now had a companion chair beside it and the platform on which they rested, as well as the path leading up to the thrones, had been liberally sprinkled with flowers and petals until they formed a veritable carpet.

Thorin and Rori walked in to the hall together, arm in arm. Thorin wore his dress armour, which was made from gold and therefore impractical to be used in battle. Rori wore a dress of gold chainmail so that she might match her husband, though fighting in a dress was also highly impractical.

They stood upon the platform and faced each other. There was no vicar or similar to preside over the service since it was so simple, but each of them had a second who was waiting at the platform for them. Thorin had chosen Dain and Rori had picked her mother as her second.

Dwarves often exchange jewellery when they get married, or commissioned two matching pieces to be made but it is traditional for royalty to exchange rings with their beloved. Although Rori's cousin, Mori had made the rings, Thorin had taken care of the design and Rori hadn't been allowed to know anything about them since Thorin wanted the rings to be a surprise.

Rori didn't know quite what what to expect but she was looking forward to finding out.

Thorin took the ring from his second and turned to face Rori.

"Rori Storyteller," he said, taking her hand. "My eternal."

She smiled and then looked down as he slipped the ring on her finger. Her smile widened as she realised that the ring was made from Mithril, a silver metal that is much stronger than gold or silver. Mounted in the ring was a large white stone.

"It's tough, and the stone should help you pack a punch," he said softly so that no one else in the room could hear, save possibly for their seconds.

Rori smiled, remembering her words when she had told him how impractical gold was. She turned to her mother and accepted the ring, which was exactly like the one he had given her only larger. She could see writing on the inside of the ring and smiled as she read "my eternal" written in ancient elvish, of all things. So he had been listening when she talked of that dead language! She almost began laughing, for it really was the silliest and sweetest of gestures.

"Thorin Okaenshield, my eternal," she said, slipping the ring onto his finger.

The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping, though the men and elves were slightly more reserved. Thorin claimed a kiss from his wife, causing the noise level to rise a further few decibels, then when they separated, they each took their place on the thrones.

They sat there until the crowd had calmed somewhat and then took their places at the top table so that the feast could begin.

Also seated with them at the top table was the Elven-king of Mirkwood, the master of Lake-town, Bard of Dale and their wives, the lords of the three most prosperous dwarf houses in Erebor, including Dain, and finally Gandalf (who though he hadn't received an invitation since they didn't know where to send it, had turned up anyway and was a welcome addition).

All the visitors had brought gifts and the feast consisted of deer, which were a gift from the elves, wine, gifted by the men of Lake-town and potatoes, which were a gift from the men of Dale. Each visiting party had also given gifts to the couple, though these were usually of a much more expensive nature.

The elves had given them a matching short sword and dagger; his and hers weapons, if you like. The men of dale had presented the couple with a selection of gem stones (Dwarf metal smithing is far superior to human skill, so they didn't try to mount the stones first). The men of Lake-town had given the couple a hand carved wooden chest, inlaid with the finest mother of pearl marquetry depicting the Lonley Mountain.

Gandalf had not given a gift publicly as the others had, instead he preferred to give his presents directly to the recipients and so once the feast was over with and the singing and dancing had begun, he drew the couple to one side so that he might speak with them in private.

He handed them a small wooden box which was ornately carved and they opened it to find a metal frame inside, from which a black jewel was suspended.

"It's beautiful," Thorin said, though his expression was confused. He didn't expect a gift of jewels from Gandalf, that was more something that mortal men valued.

"It's beauty is undeniable," Gandalf agreed, "But it's value is far greater." He took the stone and it's frame from the box. "When it's owner is in danger the stone turns lighter, almost clear if the danger is mortal and close enough but when the troubles have passed, the stone will return to it's normal colour, black."

"It's an early warning system," Rori said, delighted by the idea. "To tell us when the danger from the prophecy is coming."

"Indeed," Gandalf smiled. "Unfortunately it cannot differentiate between dangers and will grow lighter whenever Thorin faces danger but in any case, it will warn you to be on your guard, even if you are not facing mortal danger."

"Thank you," Thorin said, though he felt that it was sadly inadequate for such a gift.

"Think nothing of it, my boy, it was only gathering dust in the bottom of an old chest."

Thorin doubted that somehow.

"Now, I also have another surprise for your dear wife," Gandalf continued. "If you could return to your room, I believe you have a visitor waiting for you." He winked and then walked away, heading back to the party.

Thorin and Rori looked at each other, both wondering who the visitor was and by unspoken agreement, they both headed down the corridor to their room. He didn't expect the visitor to be someone who wished them harm but since Thorin was slightly wary, he opened the door and went in first.

"There's no one here," he said, looking around as Rori joined him.

"No one?" came a small voice.

They looked over to the fireplace where Morgana was sitting on the mantle above it.

"Charming!" the faerie huffed, although her smile belied her words.

"What are you doing here?" Rori asked, smiling and heading to the faerie, pleased to see her again.

"I heard about your wedding and I wanted to give you a gift. Gandalf smuggled me in under his robes!" she said grinning.

"That was very clever," Rori laughed. "But you didn't have to give us a gift, the help you gave us and your friendship is more than enough."

"But I wanted to," Rori said looking over Rori's shoulder at Thorin. "But it's a girl's gift!" she said, making it clear that he should leave them.

Thorin looked to Rori who nodded, so he left them, an indulgent smile on his lips as he closed the door behind himself.

Morgand flew off the mantelpiece and began to fly around Rori's head, saying something in her native tongue, then she threw a handful of dust over Rori which made her cough and splutter.

When the dust had died down, she smiled at he faerie who was fluttering in front of her.

"What was that?" she asked.

"That was my gift," Morgana said with a wide grin.

"Um, thank you?" Rori sounded uncertain.

"You're welcome!"

"Can I ask, what exactly did you do to me?"

"I stopped your beard from growing," she said. "Never again will you have to worry about it."

"What!" Rori's eyes went wide. "You what?"

"I... stopped your beard from growing?" The faerie didn't look nearly so satisfied now.

Rori ran to the mirror in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry!" Morgana cried, flying after her. "I thought you didn't like it! You kept shaving it in the mountains and I kept watching you for the rest of your trip and you kept removing even once you reached the Blue Mountains! I thought you wanted it gone!"

Rori looked at herself in the mirror, seeing exactly the same face looking back at her that had for the past six months or more. It was simply the idea that the choice had been taken away from her that was upsetting. In truth she did find it annoying to have to shave so regularly and had considered trying something that the women of Dale did to remove hair, called waxing. Morgana had only been trying to do her a kindness.

"Can you undo it?" she asked, turning to the faerie.

Morgana nodded and moved to fly about her head once more but Rori quickly snatched her from the air.

"No," she smiled. "I only asked if you could, not if you would."

Morgana looked fearful to have been caught.

"It's okay, you just caught me my surprise that's all. I'm not angry and now that I know you can undo it if I ever want, I think it's a wonderful gift, thank you." She brought the faerie to her lips and kissed her before setting her free.

Morgana dropped a few inches then righted herself and hovered in front of Rori once again.

"You're really not mad anymore?"

"I'm really not," she laughed. "But maybe in future, you should ask before you perform spells on people."

"I will, I promise!" Morgana said though Rori was very far from certain that she would. "Here," she handed Rori her bag of faerie dust.

"I still have the last bag you gave me!"

"Well now you have more! If you ever want the beard back, just hold the dust, wish it back and sprinkle it on your face."

"Okay," Rori smiled. "Now, since I was rather ungracious earlier, how would you like a dance?"

Morgana's eyes grew as wide as her smile then quickly faded. "What if they see me?"

"They won't," Rori pulled her hair back off her neck. "Clime on, my hair will hide you."

Morgana debated with herself for a moment then decided to risk it. She flew under Rori's hair and held onto the hem of her dress as Rori placed her hair back down over her.

"There, okay?" she asked, looking into the mirror to make sure that Morgana wasn't visible.

Morgana pulled herself up on the collar of Rori's dress so that her head was visible, then she shrank back out of sight.

"Okay," she told Rori.

They headed back to the main hall and Rori approached Thorin.

"Dance, my Lord?" she asked.

"Why yes, my Lady, I think that is an excellent idea."

They headed to the dance floor (though I hesitate to call it that since the floor was rock). Dwarf dancing is an energetic affair with lots of jumping, kicking and cheering. A bit like line dancing on crack.

"Hold on tight," Rori said as Thorin took her in his arms.

"Excuse me?" he asked, puzzled my her words.

Rori turned her head to the side and Morgana peeked out from her hiding place.

"Ah. It appears I am dancing with two beautiful women."

He thought that he heard the faerie giggle, but it was hard to tell over the music and the ambient noise.

They danced with abandon and Rori kept hearing giggles on the more athletic movements. They danced three songs before Rori was breathless and in need of a rest. She made her way over to Gandalf.

"Ah, my dears," he said as he saw Rori. "Did you enjoy that?"

Rori knew he wasn't speaking to her and heard the high pitched buzzing that was the fey language.

"Wonderful!" Gandalf smiled.

"I believe I have some contraband that you're looking for," Rori smiled.

"Indeed you do but I seem to have dropped something." He let go of a handkerchief that he held.

"Let me," Rori said bending over to get it and allowing Morgana the chance to climb into Gandalf's robes. When she was certain that Morgana was concealed, Rori stood and handed the square of material back to him.

"Thank you, my dear."

"Thank you for bringing her."

They said their goodbyes then and Rori went to find Thorin. Though the party went on into the wee small hours of the night, hardly anyone noticed that the king and queen had long since departed for their own, private celebration.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Thorin and Rori's first child, Tori, was born fifteen months after their official marriage ceremony, probably conceived that very night. The people were thrilled to welcome another female dwarf into the world.

Eleven years later they were slightly perplexed to welcome another girl, Thain, to the world and ten tears after that, positively shocked when Rori and Thorin had a third girl, Roain. Three female children in a row was positively unheard of! When Rori gave birth to a fourth girl, Raia, eleven years later, everyone took it as a sign. Of what exactly, they weren't sure but this must mean something, the people said as they celebrated.

Thorin was more than a little puzzled by it himself but Rori had a theory that offered some reason behind the coincidence. She theorised that when he chose to return to his mortal life he upset the plans that destiny might have had, namely that Dain would succeed him. Having four female children ensured that the throne would still pass to Dain.

The longer Thorin considered this, the more he thought that she might have a point. He used to believe that you forged your own destiny but he had seen enough strange and bizarre coincidences in his time, not to mention things like Gandalf's foresight, which made him believe that perhaps there was a larger plan in motion.

Thorin and Rori were well liked leaders and considered fair and just by those they ruled. The dwarves in the Lonely Mountain thrived under his rule but as the millennium approached, both Rori and Thorin grew a little more sombre with each passing year.

Rori had completed her translation of the prophecy long ago and realised that her dream about Thorin facing a Maia had been wrong. She had often wondered if her dream had perhaps been prophetic but now she had her answer; no. Her mind had created those images, trying to remind her of what she had forgotten. Since at that time she didn't know the nature of the attack, she had focused on Sauron as the enemy, hence the association with the maia. Still, discovering his true foe did little to sooth her nerves since he would be facing a Ringwraith, who were among the most feared creatures in Middle Earth and could kill merely with their poisonous breath.

What worried her most though, was that the prophecy didn't say anything about whether Thorin would survive.

In the year 2996 Thorin turned 250 but unlike most dwarves of that kind of age, he hadn't grown old in the past ten years, indeed the only signs of age he had were a few more grey hairs, but Rori worried that he would start ageing soon and not be at his best when the conflict finally came.

At first they could see no way to attach the Arkenstone to the Orcrist. Trusted sword-smiths and jewellers had taken a look at the sword, but they too could find no way of merging the gem with the sword. Some suggested melting the hilt down and reforging it to include the stone but Rori vetoed that idea and Thorin stood behind her.

She read book after book, searching for an answer but it took 45 years before she found what she was looking for. By that time almost everyone in middle earth knew of the dwarf queen's obsession with elven sword smithing, but only a few were privy to the reason behind it. One who was, having been confided in by Gandalf, was Elrond. At Galdalf's request, he began his own search through the ancient elvish manuscripts and texts, searching for reference to the Orcrist. Finally he found the original diaries of the smith who forged the sword, which he sent under armed guard to Erebor, as a gift to the king.

Rori's ancient elvish had been much improved since she had first found the prophecy, but she took her time translating the diaries, needing to be certain.

What they hadn't counted on was magic. Only the blood of the swords rightful owner could open the hilt to encompass the Orcrist, thereby ensuring that even if he did get hold of the sword and stone, Sauron would be unable to join them.

And there was the brilliance of the plan. If Thorin never joined the sword and stone, Sauron could never use them but in order to weaken and hopefully defeat the Ringwraith that Sauron would send, the sword and stone would need to be joined.

The stone that Gandalf had given them on their wedding day rested on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, where it could be easily seen but was out of reach of inquisitive hands (not that their children were badly behaved but all dwarf children were known to be boisterous at times).

As time went on, Rori became almost obsessed with the stone, glancing at it every few minutes and feeling more and more unsettled if she had to stay away from it for any length of time.

Thorin took the decision to move the stone and housed it with the rest of his gold, where it would have a constant guard who could watch for any changes in the stone. Truth be told, Thorin was uncomfortable with how much reliance they were both putting on the stone to warn them of danger.

Rori was furious with him for not consulting her before he moved it but although it took two days, she did eventually come round and apologised for hitting him in the middle of a council meeting. To his credit, he hadn't hit her back and accepted her apology when she finally made it.

That evening, after some rather athletic make-up sex, they lay in bed together, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What would you like to do when this is over," Thorin asked, breaking the silence.

Rori had never given that much thought before, she was too focused on the confrontation and Thorin's possible death to wonder what might happen after. She almost felt as though she was jinxing them by making plans but now that he had put the idea in her head, she knew exactly what her dream was.

"Travel," she said. "I've read so much about foreign lands, now I think that I'd like to actually experience them."

Thorin smiled, liking that idea.

"And you?" she asked.

Thorin sighed. He might not be ageing yet but he was still old and the burden of ruling, combined with the prophecy, had been weighing heavily on him for the past fifty years and had taken their toll on his spirit. He hadn't come to any firm conclusions about what he would do if he survived but he felt that he had done his duty. The idea of travelling with Rori was most appealing. Besides, Dain had waited long enough to ascend to the throne, it was surely his time.

"I think I'd like that too," he said. "We can take the girls with us, show them some of the world.

Rori held him tighter and prayed that they got that chance.

III

As predicted, the stone had turned lighter a few times since Gandalf had given it to them but never lighter than a grey shade. The dangers turned out to be varied, form Thorin's hunting party being attacked by orcs, to him being struck down with Dwarven Fever.

In 2997 the stone grew lighter once again. It was now too close to the turn of the century for Thorin not to think that this was the Ringwraith that they had been expecting.

Thorin had long since decided that when this day came, he would venture to the top of the mountain where his people would be relatively safe from any encounter. The mountain would also be evacuated, the dwarves being sent to the town of Dale below.

They had argued for years over whether Rori would accompany him, or evacuate with their children and the other dwarves. Thorin wanted her safe with the others, obviously.

Even Rori herself was torn between being a good wife and a good mother. She could not bear it if Thorin died and she had not tried to help him but equally, she did not like the thought that her presence and only average fighting skills could prove a distraction to him during the battle. She also didn't want her children to end up orphans. Dain had offered to raise the children and Rori trusted him to do an excellent job, but she wanted to be there for them, to make sure that they received all the love that she had to give.

At 55, Tori was the eldest. She took after her father in temperament and mannerisms but her mother in looks.

Thain was the image of her father and though she took more after her mother, she had inherited Thorin's stubborn streak (though Thorin insisted that it was Rori's stubborn streak!).

Roain had also inherited her fathers looks but the the bookish gene as well. While the others were out play fighting, exploring caves and the like, Roain more often than not had her head in a book. Her favourite place was the library and Rori did her best to encourage the child, and protect her from any teasing that she might be subject to. Thanks to the queens proclivities, being bookish was quite popular now and so she endured little in the way of bullying.

Raia was the youngest and easily the most precocious of the bunch. At just 25 she was still very headstrong and any mischief that the children got into was usually masterminded by her. She was the apple of Thorin's eye and Rori knew that she would feel the loss of her father more keenly than the others.

They all loved him, of course, and would miss him dreadfully if anything did happen to him, so when they were ordered to evacuate, there were many tears, decelerations of love and more than a few offers to accompany him.

Finally Dain ushered them out of their fathers room and Rori was left facing Thorin. He took a step towards her but she stepped back.

"No," she shook her head. "I will not say goodbye to you." Her eyes were shining with tears and for a moment she was unable to speak.

Thorin waited patiently, his own emotions in danger of overwhelming him.

"I love you far too much to let you go and If I say goodbye, you might feel that you can give up but I don't care how hard it is or how long it takes, you will come back to me, do you understand?"

Thorin nodded. If anyone could change the outcome of this by sheer force of will, he was certain that it was Rori. Now if only he believed in that.

"Then I won't say goodbye," he agreed. "But every dwarf going off to do battle deserved a good luck kiss, don't they?"

Rori nodded and looked almost relieved as she stepped into his embrace, resting her head on his chest and marvelling how she could feel so safe in his embrace, when she knew what dangers were to come. Finally she looked up at him and reached up on her toes to kiss him. It was so charged with emotion that it felt like their first kiss all over again. How long ago that felt now, and yet it was not nearly long enough for Rori's liking.

The kiss ended and they stood with their foreheads touching until finally Rori stepped back, said a silent wish then opened her hand and blew the dust in her palm over Thorin.

"Here," she pressed a small drawstring purse into his hand. "It's the rest of my fairy dust," she explained. "Wish what you want the dust to do then throw it."

"What did you wish for?" he asked.

"For it to protect you," she answered simply. "Good luck," she said, her voice cracking as she took another step away. "We have the rest of our lives together, remember that, okay?"

"I will," he assured her, his own voice thick with emotion.

Rori ran forward and kissed him once more, then bolted from the room lest she break down in front of him. Her children were waiting for her in the main hall and she gathered them up and together they headed down the mountain to the town of Dale.

III

Thorin headed to his gold room to check the stone. It was almost see through now, which meant that the Ringwraith couldn't be very far away.

He picked up the Arkenstone and then headed for the top of the mountain. A wide path had been cut in the mountain side, allowing the Ringwraith easy access to the top of the mountain, where a platform had been carved out of the rock, on which Thorin could face his foe. When Rori had discovered that Ringwraiths had poisonous breath, Thorin had decided that it was best to face the creature outside, where it's poison would quickly disperse on the wind.

Rori had explained many times how to join the Arkenstone to the Orcrist but he wanted to leave it to the very last moment since once joined, the sword became a formidable weapon; one that he didn't want to fall into the wrong hands.

Ringwraiths are men who were corrupted by the rings of power and over time, their physical forms literally faded away into nothing. Usually only those who could see wraiths could see Ringwraiths but they normally wore long black hooded cloaks to give them some physical presence, as did this one, who was currently riding a large black horse towards the mountain, from the direction of Mirkwood.

Thorin took the Orcrist in his left hand and used it to lightly score his right palm, causing a line of blood to appear. He transferred the sword to his right hand and immediately it began to glow. The lower end of the hilt, closest to the sword appeared to melt and a large hollow circle appeared there, which Thorin placed the Arkenstone into. The metal closed around the stone, trapping it within the hilt.

Rori had explained that as well as activating the magic in the sword, his blood would create a connection with Thorin, so that the sword became more of an extension to his arm rather than a weapon that he was wielding. It almost felt weightless now, just as you are unaware of the weight of your own arm as you move it.

Thorin moved to the edge of the mountain to look for the wraith, which was following the path that had been cut into the mountain side for it. It was moving much faster than any normal horse and rider ought to and Thorin stepped back in to the centre of the plateau as he prepared for their arrival.

The horse reared up as it reached the platform and the Ringwraith let out a terrifying shriek. Thorin stood firm, taking courage from the sword he held. Most weapons were useless against Ringwraiths, only those forged by the elves in the first age could harm them, which thankfully included the Orcrist.

Similarly the Ringwraiths couldn't affect the physical world and needed to wield special weapons given to them by Sauron. The black horses which they rode were also specially trained by him.

As the horse's front hooves touched down, it sprinted forward, galloping towards Throrin. The Arkenstone glowed brighter as Thorin drew the sword back and blocked the blow from the Ringwraiths sword. The horse and rider passed him, then turned back to charge again.

On the third pass, at the last minute, Thorin rolled forward, dodging the ringwraiths sword, his own blade slicing into the black beasts hind leg. The horse reared and screamed, dismounting his rider and galloping to the edge of the mountain. He appeared to fall but moments later Thorin heard hoof beats galloping away, so presumably the horse had righted itself and was following the path back down.

Thorin didn't mind it's escape since the horse on it's own meant no one any harm; the danger came from it's rider.

The ringwraith got to it's feet and let out another piercing scream as flames erupted around it. It was pissed! Thankfully Dwarves can tolerate great extremes in temperature but they are far from flame proof, so Thorin knew that he had to be careful.

The Ringwraith came at Thorin again and they fought, their swords meeting with almighty crashes that reverberated around and down the mountain.

Down below, Rori, who was waiting in Bard's house with her children, drew them closer to her breast and covered the ears of the youngest two, trying in vain to protect them from the ugly sounds.

Even though the fight was more equal now that the creature had been dismounted, Thorin was still much smaller than his opponent, but he was also stronger and being smaller meant that he was more agile on his feet. He landed a few blows on the ringwraith but since he couldn't see it's physical form, he couldn't tell if he had caused it serious harm or not.

He also suffered his own wounds, though his chainmail had so far prevented serious injury. He gained the upper hand briefly, forcing the ringwraith back towards the edge of the mountain. He could literally feel the power of his sword coursing through his body, which filled him with hubris. He felt invincible.

Cornered, the Ringwraith came out fighting. His blade slicing through the air and into Thorin's side and although he just managed to block it, reducing the force, he was forced off his feet, crashing back to the ground near the centre of the platform.

The Ringwraith waisted no time in pressing home it's advantage and ran forward, the tip of it's blade poised to pierce through Thorin's heart.

Thorin was winded from the fall and his reflexes were dulled as a result. He saw the Ringwraith coming towards him in a fiery ball of rage, then time seemed to slow for a moment. His vision blurred and he saw Rori when she had been yelling at him just before they married, her face flushed and her chest heaving. He saw Tori as she was placed into his arms for the first time, her face pink and her skin still wrinkled. He saw Thain sitting on his lap, making a very poor job of platting his beard while he tried to have a discussion with her mother. He saw Roain grinning with pleasure and throwing herself into his arms after he had given her a rare first edition book of sonnets by a man named JP Plumber for her birthday. Finally he saw Raia, making him laugh while he was trying to chastise her, completely ruining the dressing down that he was about to give her.

Then his vision cleared and he saw the Ringwraiths blade moving closer and he thought about saying goodbye to his beautiful girls.

"NO!"

Seemingly of it's own volition and with his hand just along for the ride, the Orcrist rose off the ground and slammed into the Ringwraiths sword, shattering it into a million pieces. Thorin jumped to his feet and his sword sliced back and forth through the Ringwraith. He felt the flesh on his hand burn, smelt his beard and hair catch on fire but he pressed forward, slicing back and forth until the ringwraith let out a final inhuman scream as it's disguise, the cloak, was destroyed like the sword before it, rendering Ringwraith's ability to affect the world around him void. Now invisible and with no more power than a puff of smoke, the Ringwraith had little choice but to give up and return to it's master, Sauron.

Thorin patted out the fire in his hair and beard and took a few deep breaths as he looked down to the shredded cloak which lay before him. Scattered around it were also a shards of the wraiths sword. It was over.

Battered, bloody and burned, Thorin made his way down the mountain, eager to see his family once more. Thankfully they were also making their way to him, somehow realising that the confrontation was over. He saw them, and many others behind them, heading up the path towards him and he smiled in relief; then his vision grew dark at the edges and he fell to his knees before passing out completely.

III

Rori winced with each item of clothing that she removed, for although Thorin's chainmail had prevented too much blood from being drawn, the blows that he had sustained had left his skin an ugly patchwork of black and purple. She undressed him as gently as she could but she knew that time was of the essence. Every time she took his pulse it was weaker than before but even without that, instinctively she knew that he was dying; she could feel it with every fibre of her being.

She suspected that he had broken ribs, a broken arm, internal bleeding and judging from his breathing, possibly a punctured lung. As she disrobed him she had found the purse of fairy dust that she had given him secured to his belt, unused. She kept the bag and now poured it's contents into the palm of her hand.

"Heal him," she begged, then sprinkling the dust all over his body, but mainly on his torso where his worst injuries seemed to be concentrated.

With that done she set about cleaning his abrasions. As I said earlier, there wasn't much blood which was highly unusual. The chainmail had chaffed the top layers of skin off in places where the enemies sword had impacted it but there were no cuts from the Ringwraith's blade. Dwarven chainmail was good, the best in middle earth in fact, but it was not infallible and against such a formidable opponent, it shouldn't have protected him as well as it had.

She wondered if perhaps the earlier fairy dust she had asked to protect him had helped. When Thorin was recovered (there was no_ 'if'_ about it) she would find a way to contact Gandalf and ask him to pass her sincere thanks onto Morgana.

When she had finished cleaning the wounds, she dressed him in a black nightshirt (fearing that his bruises would show through white material) then told her children that they could see their father. While the girls crowded around the bed, Dain drew her aside to talk privately.

"How is he?"

"It's bad," she admitted. "His pulse is weak, his body is black and blue and-" she stopped there before she lost control of her emotions.

"There is always hope," Dain said kindly. He didn't know about Morgana and her gifts to Rori, but then Rori wasn't even sure that the dust would work, she just hoped that it would.

"I know."

"Where is the sword now?" Dain asked.

"It's safe," she assured him.

Dain trusted her and was happy to leave it at that.

"I'll give you some time," he said, knowing that this was a family moment. He left the chamber and Rori joined her children by the bed.

"Will he be all right?" Raia asked, tears shining in her young eyes.

"I don't know," Rori admitted.

"I can make a healing broth," Roain offered, preferring action to waiting. "There are lot's of healing recipes in the library."

"That's a good idea," Rori told her. "He'll need it when he wakes up."

"I'll help," Thain added.

"Me too," Tori said.

"And me," chorused Raia.

Rori smiled. Roain's sisters didn't often share her love of books so it was good to see them standing behind her now; standing together.

"Thank you," Rori smiled as her tears began to fall. "I'm sorry," she wiped at her eyes.

Raia hugged her mother, her own tears finally falling and in within a few moments, all five of them had crowded together in one huge hug, all sobbing and offering what comfort they could to each other.

"What is that blasted noise?"

They all turned, shocked to see Thorin awake.

"I thought someone was murdering a cat." His voice was weak and gravelly.

"I see you're feeling better," Rori smiled through her tears.

Thorin smiled and reached his hand out for hers but his grip was feeble.

"For a moment there, I thought that I'd lost you," Rori admitted.

"You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"

The girls laughed and Rori reached out with her free hand to stroked his cheek.

She allowed the girls to stay for a few minutes longer, then reminded them of the broth they wanted to make and ushered them from the room. Thorin needed his rest and her children, god love them, did not create a calm and relaxing atmosphere. She closed the door behind them and returned to Thorin. She picked up his wrist and took his pulse again, pleased to note that it was stronger.

"How long was I out?" Thorin asked.

"Less than an hour," she answered.

"What happened?" he asked, knowing that he was in no fit state to be recovering after only an hour.

"I used the faerie dust," she admitted. "You owe her a big fruit basket," she teased, knowing that was a common gift that men liked to give.

Thorin smiled.

"Try to sleep now, you still need to rest," she said.

Thorin nodded but grabbed her wrist as she made to get off the bed. His grip was still very weak but stronger than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Stay with me," he said. "You know I sleep better with you around."

Rori worried about hurting him so although she got into the bed, she didn't rest against him as she normally would. Thorin wasn't having that and slipped an arm under her; he didn't have the strength to pull her to him but Rori knew what he wanted and settled against him, her head resting on his shoulder. She watched the rhythmic rise and fall chest, proof that he was alive, and it soothed her. She had been so tense for the last few hours, worried about him, worried for her daughters and running on adrenalin, that she soon found herself being lulled into a peaceful slumber.

When she awoke an hour later, Thorin was still sound asleep so she slipped from the bed and went to check on the girls. She found them in the kitchen being indulged by Cook. Cook was doing his best to oversee the banquet this evening as well as helping the girls out so that the broth they made was edible (unlike Rori, they had always been cooked for and hadn't learned the finer points of running a household). Cook had a sharp tongue on him but everyone knew that he loved the girls like they were his own.

"How is he?" Cook asked when he saw Rori.

"He's sleeping but I think he will be fine in time."

"Oh!" Cook clutched his breast. "Thank the stars."

"I didn't realise there would be a feast this evening," Rori said, worried that Thorin would be disturbed.

"Don't worry, 'tis the men in Dale hosting it, but we can't turn up empty handed now, can we?"

"No," Rori smiled and approached her children.

"Miss Raia!" Cook yelled. "If I see you chop another carrot before it's peeled, I will have your hide for my new tunic! Do you think peel will help your Pa recover?"

Raia only smiled, knowing that his words were just bluster but nevertheless she stopped chopping and began peeling the remaining carrots.

"I can't stay long," Rori said as she stood at the end of the table her children were working at. "Your father is resting but I don't want to leave him for too long."

"This should be ready in another hour or so," Roain said. "Shall we bring some then?"

"Let's see how he feels first, If he's up to it, I'm sure he'd like you to join him."

"That should give you another incentive to make it edible," Cook called over, pointedly. Very little that was said in his kitchen escaped him.

"There's gifts been coming for him," Tori said. "What should we do with them?"

"Leave them for now. He'll go through them when he's strong enough."

"You get back, Ma," Thain said. "Send someone when he wakes up and we'll bring dinner to you."

Rori returned to Thorin then and found him sitting up in bed.

"Don't exert yourself!" she cried, rushing over to him.

"I'm fine, woman."

"Fine? I've seen better looking wargs!" her worry was making her sharper than she might have wished, scolding him like he was a naughty child rather than the king of an empire.

As she tried to fuss with his sheets he caught her hands.

"Darling, please, I'm fine. Don't fret so."

His grip was a lot stronger than he had been earlier and she sat on the bed and began unbuttoning his nightshirt.

"Oh my!" she breathed, running her fingertips lightly over his chest.

The earlier black and purple bruises were now more shades of green and yellow. He was healing incredible quickly, faster than she dared to hope. Still, she was determined that he look after himself and not hinder the healing process.

"How are the girls?" he asked.

"Fine, now that they know that you are okay," she smiled. "I should warn you though, they're making your dinner."

Thorin smiled, remembering when they'd tried to make breakfast in bed for their parents on their 50th anniversary. Everything was either burned to a crisp or so under done as to be almost raw.

"Don't worry, cook is supervising this venture, he wouldn't let anything leave the kitchen that wasn't perfect."

"And the people?"

"There were no injuries," she said. "A few children will have nightmares for a while after hearing the Ringwraith's screams but if that is the worst of it, we can count ourselves lucky. I haven't seen Dain in a while but he was handling things when we brought you in."

"Indeed," he smiled and opened his arms to her and she fell into his embrace.

"I was so worried," she said.

"Hush, I am fine now."

"Yes." She pulled away and looked into his eyes, brushing a strand of his hair back behind his ear.

"I've been thinking," Thorin said. "I want to abdicate the throne, I want to take you and the girls and leave the mountain for a while."

"You've had a tough day," she smiled indulgently. "Don't make decisions like this now."

"I thought that was what you wanted?" he frowned.

"It is a dream," she confirmed, "but if it remains a dream I won't be upset. I love my life. I will always love my life as long as you are part of it and you don't need to make any grand gestures; you have already won my heart."

"I don't say this for you, though I admit your idea is appealing." He sighed. "I am old, Rori. I have been lucky in that I have not started ageing unduly but I don't know how much longer that will last. I was born to rule but I believe that I have done my duty. It is time to pass the throne onto Dain, who deserves it and has waited patiently, and forge a life for us and our family."

"We could still stay here," she said.

"We could," he conformed. "And perhaps we will return here but you know that the Orcrist is now a formidable weapon. If it remains here, our people will never be safe."

"What did you have in mind?" Rori asked.

"I have no firm plans," he said. "I thought that we might drop it in the middle of a deep ocean, or throw it into the heart of a volcano. Perhaps Gandalf might know what is best to do with such a weapon but whatever is best, we must ensure that it happens, we can't entrust it to others."

"You really have thought about this."

"I have. My life to date has been about doing my duty, now I want to carve out something for myself."

"I agree." Rori nodded.

"Then help me get dressed," he said. "There must be a celebration, I will announce it tonight."

"No!" Rori said firmly, placing a hand on his chest so that he couldn't get out of bed. "I will bring Dain to you and you can make plans but you will not get out of bed until tomorrow morning at the earliest, do you hear me?"

"But I feel fine-"

"Well I don't!" she snapped, instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry, but if you could have seen the state you were in... Please, just for once do as you are told?"

Thorin saw the tears shining in his wife's eyes and realised that he had been selfish, thinking only of himself and his desire to start his new life.

"I'm sorry," he smiled. "There will be time enough to tell others, tonight is for us, our family. I can tell the girls, right?"

"Yes," she smiled, wiping her tears away. "Though we might have a hard time convincing Roain to leave her books and travel."

"You will not need convincing?" he asked.

"No. I would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked."

"But I thought you wanted to travel?"

"I do want to," she assured him. "But I would be happy anywhere with you."

Thorin smiled.

"Maybe we can retire to a little shack on the coast," he said. "I can learn to fish and you can read your books."

"I think I might like to write my own book," she confessed. Over the years she had transcribed some of her grandfathers older and faded books into new volumes but she had a lot of her own tales to tell now and if they went travelling, she would have even more.

"I think that is a very good idea," he said.

They told the girls their plan over dinner that evening (which Thorin remained in his bed for) and they were thrilled by the idea. Like most young dwarves, they were overconfident and ready for adventure. Roain was the most reticent but Rori stressed that she could see for herself the places that she had only read about, and urged her to think of the other books that she could discover while they travelled. That seemed to satisfy her.

The next morning, Thorin dressed and (still promising to take things easy) called Dain to his quarters and told him.

Dain was shocked. He had begun to feel that the throne would never be his, and if that was to be then he could live with it but as Rori had female child after female child, he began to hope again. Now it seemed that the wait was over and though still alive and kicking, Thorin was giving him what he wanted.

"But-"

"No buts," Thorin interrupted. "The throne should have been yours upon my first death. Now it seems that I have escaped death once again but it is time to pass that responsibility to you. Rori believes it is your destiny to rule our people and given the evidence, I cannot disagree. You are a fine dwarf, Dain, and I thank you for your loyalty over the years. You will be an inspiring king."

Dain bowed his head, slightly awed by this gesture. Having just single handily defeated a Ringwraith, Thorin was almost a god to his people now and could have ruled them for an eternity without dissent. For Thorin to give up that power and hand it to him was truly remarkable.

"I will do my best to honour your legacy."

"Just be true to yourself, that is all I ask," Thorin said, for no king could rule effectively while in someone else's shadow. "Our family will also be leaving for a while, possibly a long while."

"Leaving?" Dain looked up.

"We must safely dispose of the sword," he explained. "Then we will see what we want to do. The girls are coming with us."

"Will you be coming back?"

"I cannot say. I have already outlived my lifespan so I don't know how long I have left, but I am not abandoning you. Even if I can't return, my family will, and I will ask the ravens to bring us news of you and life here in the mountain."

Dain nodded.

"Rori insists that I rest for a few days so I would like you to organise a feast for Friday evening, at which time I will announce my intentions and pass the crown onto you."

"Are you sure?" Dain asked.

"I am, though I would ask that you keep this to yourself until we officially announce it. You and I can use the time to work out the details." Dain nodded then left soon afterwards. He couldn't quite believe it yet.

III

Twenty days after Thorin had fought the ringwraith, he and his family set out from the Lonely Mountain. They left before dawn while the town was still asleep, not wanting a large send off. It was safest if as few people as possible knew where they were going. They headed east towards the Misty Mountains.

Thorin looked over to Rori and smiled. She was dressed in hobbit attire once more, though her current outfit had been made for her and while they resembled hobbit clothes, they were made from dwarf materials and much more practical. Still, she looked like a hobbit, which brought back some very welcome memories for him.

The first leg of their journey would take them on a similar path to their last quest to the Blue Mountains but they would then travel by boat from the south of the Blue Mountains, out into the Gulf of Lune and then on into the Great Sea. Gandalf had come for a visit just in time to see Dain crowned king (he always seemed to know when he was needed) and advised Thorin that the sword would be safe if dropped into the depths of the sea.

From there they were undecided. They could come ashore again anywhere that they wanted to and Thorin liked not knowing. He had known his future for so long, not only had he felt the weight of the prophecy bearing down on him but even before that, his destiny as king had been ever present in his mind since he was a young boy. Now however, now his future was completely open and he liked that freedom.

He probably wouldn't want to live like that forever, he was old enough to realise that people rarely changed on a fundamental level but for the moment at least, he was happy not to know what his future held.

**The End**

AN: I have tried my best to fit this story within the existing cannon, hence no male heirs and Dain Ironfoot still taking the throne (albeit it a few years later). Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.


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